The end of her question is loaded with innuendo. It’s clear she’s giddy over the idea of something happening between her childhood crush and me. And by the smile spreading across my cheeks, it would be clear to her—if she could see me—that I am a little bit happy too.
“He is hot, isn’t he?” I ask.
She laughs. “Yes.He so is. Now tell me all the things.”
I pace in a circle and attempt to slow down my thoughts. “My building in Chicago has asbestos, and I can’t get back in for a week or so.”
“And …”
“And I could stay with you and Walker.”
“Of course.”
“I was thinking about staying with Nana, but if she’s ….” I wince. “I’m not staying with Nana.”
She pauses, letting the silence work between us before speaking. “No, you’re not. You’re staying with Holt.”
I suck in a quick breath. “Well …”
“Blaire!” she shrieks. “You are? I mean, I was just throwing shit at the wall and hoping something stuck. You’re going to stay with him?”
“I don’t know,” I say, rushed. “I’m not sure. He offered to let me stay with him, and I’m thinking about it. I just don’t know a lot about him and wanted to at least … explore the possibility, I guess.”
She giggles. “Say yes.”
“You’re not thinking clearly, Sienna.”
“Oh, but Blaire—I am,” she says with exaggerated sincerity. “He’s from a great family. Smart. Kind. He’s funny and always smells amazing,and I know he’d show you a good time—in any way you might want to take that.”
She drones on and on about Holt’s virtues, but I stop listening. Mostly because my mind starts imagining what it might be like to actually be in his home.
I pretend to say yes and allow that decision to sit in my stomach. I close my eyes as Sienna veers away from Holt and onto the virtues of getaways and try to see what it feels like to take him up on his offer.
And strangely, it feels good. Fun.Exciting. Those are three things that are a bit foreign to me but tap pleasantly through my veins.
“Are you listening to me?” Sienna asks.
“Yes. I should agree to his proposal. I hear you.”
“Yes, you should. So … are you?”
Am I?
While the idea has nested itself in my psyche, I’m still not positive. Rushed judgments tend to lend themselves to trouble, and I know better. I need to think clearly.
“Maybe. I’m going to think about it for a while first. Good decisions come after a lot of thought.”
“Well, good experiences come from impulsive decisions, so don’t think about it too much.”
“You’re crazy,” I say with a chuckle. “I gotta go, Sienna. Talk to you soon.”
“Don’t overthink this!”
“Goodbye, Sienna.”
“Ugh. Fine. Bye.”
I end the call.
