I snort. “Only the best.”
“Still.” She uncrosses her arms. “It’s been what six months now?”
“Eighteen,” I correct sadly.
She rolls her eyes so hard I hear them. “But you’ve been dating for six months.” She makes aggressive air quotes arounddating.
Genesis was all for the whole“date and reconnect”thing at first, practically forcing me into dresses and lip liner like every outingwas prom night. But she lost that excitement around month three.
“We’re taking it slow,” I tell her.
“Yeah, like a snail.” She throws her hands up. “Jeez, by month six the guy would’ve seen and licked every part of me.”
I make a disgusted face. “Do you have to? And besides, I guess I’m not as easy.”
She laughs. “Sure. You should wait till he puts a ring on it.” Then she freezes dramatically and raises a brow. “Wait, he did.”
I sigh and lift my hand, showing her my bare ring finger. “No ring.”
Rolling her eyes, she steps forward and yanks the chain out from under my shirt.
“Gen… stop…” I try to dodge, but she’s freakishly strong for someone who probably weighs a hundred pounds.
She tugs until the necklace slips free, and my wedding band glints against my chest.
“Ha,” she says, smug. “Ring.”
I look down at the silver band. Patrick never took his off, but I did. I threw it into my jewelry box and forgot about it until I decided I was ready to commit to… whatever we are.
Not like I can put it back on without everyone noticing. And we’re not ready for people to know yet.
I tuck it back into my shirt. “Is there a reason you’re in my face?”
“I’m just worried about you,” she says. “You’re sneaking around and it’s not like you.”
I shrug. “It’s fun. I never got to do the ‘boy hidden in my bedroom’ thing. And I like it.”
She softens at that, sadly knowingly why. She’s the only one who fully understands how much I lost when our parents died.
I never had a normal teenage rebellion. No boyfriends in bedrooms. No sneaking kisses behind the bleachers. I was a nerd in high school, and I didn’t have any potentials for Dad to threaten with his rifle.
Genesis tilts her head. “Well,Idefinitely did.”
I burst out laughing. “I remember having to chase, what was his name? Out at midnight. Micky?”
“Nicki,” she says.
“No, Jack.”
She groans. “Whatever.”
“See,” I laugh, pointing at her, “when you have trouble remembering their names? It’s a problem.”
“Stop slut-shaming me,” she says, clutching her chest dramatically. “I’m heartbroken.”
“Youdumped Dustin.”
“He wanted babies,” she huffs.
