“But we’re besties.”
“Because you are not weird… much.”
“Tate is…”
“Tate is Tate,” Nettie interrupted flatly. “I mean, think about it. If you pictured the hottest guy in the universe…”
“The new goalie for the Coyotes?” Gina sighed happily – and Nettie paused, lifting an eyebrow in surprise at her friend’s unexpected confession. “Never mind – continue.”
“We’re gonna revisit that comment,” Nettie retorted before continuing. “If you picked the hottest guy in the universe who absolutely hated your guts, what would happen if that suddenly changed? What if he kissed you or grabbed your butt while you wrapped your legs around his waist? Not that any ofthathappened - we’re talking hypothetically. I mean, what if he looked at you like…”
Her panicked rambling stopped as Tate’s eyes and that slight smile flashed before her eyes for a moment. Those warm, dark-chocolate eyes mixed with that out-of-control wavy hair that begged to be finger-combed. That shadow on his jaw… his lips… and –oh my gosh…
“OMIGOSHHH! GINA?!”
She made a noise in her throat between a shriek and a moan of horror as Gina squealed excitedly.
“I know!”
“Tate?!”
“I KNOWW!”
“Tate cannot –cannot– ever Tate me – I mean, ‘date me’…”
“Maybe you want him to ‘Tate’ you deep down inside…”
“Maybe you never say the words ‘Tate’ and ‘deep’ in the same sentence again? I just got a bodily shiver…”
“Was it a good one?”
“You’re weird. Why did I even call you when you are obviously on his side?”
“I’m on your side – always.”
“Your brother cannot like me – and I cannot like him.”
“Why?”
That question hung in the air between them as words failed Nettie. She had no reasons, no explanation, no way to explain how it would make things weird for them, for her, for her very life. That would be the equivalent of trying to lasso a hurricane and expecting to come out of the whole thing unscathed.
“Gina – please just leave things alone and don’t sic Tate on me again. Promise me you won’t…”
“I promise.”
“Are your fingers crossed?” Nettie questioned quickly – earning her a heavy sigh that told her otherwise.
“Fine. I begrudgingly promise,” Gina muttered flatly.
“Thank you – and I mean it.”
“I know, which is why I’m agreeing. Now, are you coming over or what?”
“No, I think I’m going to go home and work on a few stocking caps before I tackle the scarves – ugh – those take me so long to do.”
“Maybe you could make a green and gray one for Tate and…”
“Bye, Gina,” Nettie interrupted – hanging up on her best friend before texting her a heart to soften the blow. Yeah, this conversation was over, and anything else said would fall on a much-too fertile imagination that needed time to settle downand bury whatever kernel of optimism had sprung forth in those moments.
