“What are you doing?” I hiss-whisper at her.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, worry clear in his voice.
“Yup, everything is fine. Oh look, here’s Penny.”
“What are you—” She points the phone at me, and I smile. But it’s not a normal smile. It’s as if each side of my mouth has been hooked, and two people are pulling straight back, baring my teeth in a mid-hiss-snarl.
Just know, it’s extremely unattractive, and I don’t blame him when his facial expression turns from concern to an appalled wince.
“Uh . . .”
“Say hi,” Blakely mouths when I look at her for help.
Turning back to the phone, I lift my hand and say, “Hi.”
Seeming just as uncomfortable as me, he lifts his hand as well. “Hi.”
And then . . . silence descends upon us.
I glance at Blakely, and he glances at whoever he’s with, who I’m going to assume is Posey, unless Pacey is there, wielding a hockey skate, ready to slice Eli’s neck.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I hear someone say before they take the phone away from Eli. I let out a sigh of relief just as Posey’s face comes into view. “You two need to get it together. You’re having a baby. Find a way to communicate without telling each other you ate an orange.”
“It was an apple,” Eli corrects in the background.
“Either way, I’ll not be a part of this anymore.” Posey looks at me on the phone and says, “Penny, you know I adore you, but you can’t kick Hornsby out. You and I both know that. Not only does he deserve to help you, but he will be absolutely murdered by your brother if he moves out.”
“I know,” I say as guilt swarms me. “I just . . . everything is just so uncomfortable. Like I know he truly doesn’t want to be there, and the tension is high, and I can’t take it.”
“I want to be there,” Eli says, but it’s still Posey I’m technically talking to. “But you’re weird.”
“I’m weird?” I ask. “You’re the one telling me the only part of a horse you like is its mane.”
Posey turns away and asks, “You said that to her?”
“It was a weak moment for me. I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Jesus.” Posey pinches the bridge of his nose as Blakely comes into view.
“For what it’s worth, she’s not being a helpful conversationalist, either.”
“Thank you,” Eli says, and I can see one of his hands flap in the air.
“How the hell did you two even hook up?” Posey asks.
“Alcohol,” both Eli and I say at the same time.
“Well, that makes sense,” Posey says. “But since we can’t use alcohol this time, we’re going to need a solution that works so Blakely and I are not pulled into these text messages. I don’t care how uncomfortable it might be. You two need to talk. Even if it’s about apples, for fuck’s sake.”
He then tosses the phone at Eli, who catches it in his lap—I can tell from the angle of his jaw—and then he brings the phone up to his face. His eyes connect with mine, and he quietly says, “Uh, do you think we can talk after the game? That’s if you’re still awake.”
Blakely is nodding, encouraging me to say yes.
I roll my teeth over the corner of my lip, and I say, “Yeah, that would be fine.”
“Okay, I’ll text to see if you’re awake.”
“Sounds good.”
