I smile. “I found something even better than that.”
She’s bouncing in place on the sofa again, a huge smile splayed across her face. Her eyes are shining with excitement.
“Tell menow,” she demands.
“I got hisnumber.” I brace myself. She grabs me by the shoulders and shakes.
“Lo! I knew you could do it.” She reaches over for her phone that’s sitting on the end table next to the sofa.
“Let’s have it, then,” she says, grinning. I grab my phone and pull up the number, reading it aloud to her. She types it into her phone, repeating it back to me. She looks up from her phone with a mischievous grin. Oh,no. What have I done?
“Lyd, no.” I shake my head, reaching for her phone. She pulls it back from me, tsking.
“Too slow. Maybe next time.” She looks down, typing something into her phone. She types, and types, and …
There’s a smug grin on her face as she dramatically uses her pointer finger to hit one last button that I really hope was notsend. She drops the phone in front of her on the sofa, and I snatch it.
My eyes widen as I read the text message that she definitelydidsend to Callum freaking Thorne. Why is itsolong?
Lydia:Hi. My name is Lydia Aston, but my friends call me Lyd. Well, really just Sloane. I’m Sloane’s best friend, by the way. I’m not looking for anything either, so it’s fine if you aren’t. We could just hang out…or talk, or whatever. I’m also a certified Golden Retriever trainer, if that’s something you’re into. You know what, forget that I said that part. That’s an inside joke between Sloane and me, and…I’m rambling. I am…so sorry. Look, Cal, is it okay if I call you Cal? Shit, anyways, if you never want to speak to me again after this text, then I would totally understand, but also if you could…that would be cool too. Anyway, I hear you’re not one for words. Good thing I am, though, right? Okay….. Goodnight, good sir. Love, Lyd. *kiss face emoji*
My mouth is still wide open when I look up from her very wordy, verysenttext message to Callum.
“Ly-d-yuh!” I say, pronouncing the syllables. “Why … what? This isbad,” I say, unable to properly voice my worry and panic.
“What?” She grabs the phone back, reading through it again. “Nah, it’s fine.” She shrugs.
“It’s definitelyyou.That’s for sure.” I cover my face with my hands. “You couldn’t have said…I don’t know, hey?” I say, pausing, “like anormalhuman?”
I can’t help the smile and laughter bubbling up my throat. Lydia keeps you guessing. Although it can be quite insufferable at times, it’s one of my favorite qualities about her. A quality that I wish I possessed instead of the rigid control and order that is my brain.
“Nah, that’s boring. And I think we both know that I’m notnormal. This way, even if he doesn’t respond, he’ll be thinking about that weird text forever.” She throws her head back in laughter. I laugh with her until tears fall from my eyes.
I wipe my eyes and sigh. “From my brief encounter with Callum, he’s going to be scarred for life. That guy has a stick up his ass. He’s so serious and broody.”
“Mmm. I love a big, broody man. Those are usually the most fun to break.” She sighs.
“That’s if he doesn’t run away after your weirdo text.” I laugh. “I hope he doesn’t tell Riven. I’ll never hear the end of it for not asking for the number.”
“Oh, come on. You two have mastered theapology. It’s fine.” She smirks. I reach across and smack her leg.
“Shut up,” I joke. She stands from the sofa, walking over to the freezer. She opens it up and looks around, bending down.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I need a snack after all that guy talk. Don’t you have ice cream? You always have ice cream.”
“Yeah, it’s in the bottom drawer,” I say.
“Found it.” She grabs the half pint of cookie-dough ice cream from the freezer and stands, closing the door. She places it on the counter and turns toward the dishwasher. And although I know I just washed the ice cream scoop, I cannot bear to see her use it to scoop ice cream right now. I jump up from the sofa and nearly sprint to the utensil drawer, pushing past her to grab a spoon.
“What are you doing, weirdo?” she questions, eyeing the spoon suspiciously. “We can just use the scoop. It’s washed.”
I’m sure my bright red cheeks and flustered eyes are giving me away right now. “Use this,” I say, handing her the spoon and trying to mask my utter embarrassment. I know Lydia would never kink shame me, but I’m going to take this one to the grave.
“Okay, then,” she says skeptically. She holds up the spoon and then plunges it into the ice cream, scooping out two spoonfuls into a small bowl. We head back over to the sofa, sitting on opposite ends.
“Ugh, still no reply from Mr. Big and Broody,” Lydia sighs before drowning her sorrows in another spoonful of ice cream.
