“God, that was dumb. I mean, I fully believe they’re both going to achieve all that, but it makes getting married into some kind of reward, and the wedding is probably going to end up disappointing them both.”
The laugh bursts out of me. “Wow, Calla. Shady much? I’m telling Blaise you said his wedding is going to be a disappointment.”
“Why?” she asks dryly. “Jordan’s the one who’d be offended. Blaise will just laugh and start plotting.”
She’s got a point there.
Our monthly dinnerwith whichever of our college friends can make it is one of the highlights of my social life. Which makes it sound like it must be awesome, but only if you don’t know what my social life is like. In a word… empty.
That doesn’t mean the first Thursday of every month isn’t a lot of fun. The friends I made at college were the first peoplewho didn’t make me feel broken. They never even asked why I don’t talk much, just accepted that it was part of me and welcomed me into their group. They protected me from assholes and professors who thought I was pretending so I could… god, I don’t even know. I never asked for an exemption from anything even though I knew I’d likely get a fail on assignments with an oral component. Harold even convinced—and helped—me to apply for special accommodations so I could present those components privately to a professor I was comfortable with. They’re the best people I know, and even five years after college, I can’t imagine my life without them.
And that’s only partly because the group chat is fucking hilarious.
So there’s pep in my step as I walk into the restaurant and spot how full our regular table is. I’m the last one—unusual. My gaze skims over their faces, and I frown as I realize Calla’s not here yet either. Wait, then who’s?—
“Polly!” I close the distance between us, grinning, as he stands and grins back. “Hey!”
Another thing I love about my friends? I get hugs. The jocks surprised me at first by not conforming to the norms of toxic masculinity, but honestly, they give the best hugs. Sometimes they don’t know their own strength, but I’m never going to complain about someone being so happy to see me that they squeeze me too hard.
“How come you’re more excited to see Polly than me?” a voice whines laughingly, and I extricate myself from an enthusiastic jock hug to get one from a different jock.
“I knew you were coming,” I tell Jordan’s shoulder, where my face is currently smushed. “Polly is a surprise.” And not the wedding-announcement surprise Calla thought it would be.
When Jordan finally lets go, I circle the table and give hugs to Blaise, Harold, Butch, and Xera. “You couldn’t convince Marty to come too?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.
“He couldn’t get away from work. Though after the last time Mom summoned him for a lecture on how he’s wasting his life as an elementary teacher when he could be wasting his life doing a job he hates, he’s seriously thinking about moving back out here. It wouldn’t stop the lectures, but it’s easier to hear them via voicemail.”
I wince. I’ve met their mom a total of two times—first at Marty’s graduation, then again last year when Xera and Butch got married—and to say she’s terrifying would be vastly understating it. I didn’t speak for the rest of the day after meeting her, either time. Butch likes to say that Xera’s a lot like her mom, only with a heart, and I can see that.
“It would be great if he could come back,” Butch adds. “Then we’d never need to go to Philly at all, and we’d have more reasons to avoid your mom.”
Xera nods. “I did point that out.”
A familiar squeal interrupts us, and I turn in time to see Calla pounce on Brad.
“How come I’m the sloppy seconds here?” Jordan complains, and Blaise slings an arm around his shoulders.
“Because you’re mine first, babe, and they all know it.”
The smile they share is so loving and comfortable that it makes me green with envy. I want that. To be so comfortable with someone that I never have to doubt how they feel about me. Sure, Blaise and Jordan had some hiccups in the beginning, but they were young and dumb… and what they have now is so solid, it survives them living at opposite ends of the country for six—sometimes eight—months of the year. That’s what I aspire to.
Of course, it’s hard to meet the man who’s perfect for me when I can’t always talk to strangers… and don’t like meeting new people. That limits the pool of available options a lot.
Once we’re all sitting and the server’s been over to take drink and appetizer orders, Harold asks, “So, how long are our famous athletes here for this time?”
Jordan and Brad are both Major League ball players—that’s baseball, which I knew nothing about until Blaise met Jordan back in college. Calla was already a fan of the sport, but the rest of us were the most non-sporty-art-student stereotypes we could manage to be. Except Xera, whose brother, Marty, played on the same team as the other guys. We actually met her at the first game we all went to, and she helped us learn baseball so we could be supportive. Or at least not bored out of our minds. I actually like baseball now, but I had no clue what was happening those first few games.
“I’m back until Spring Training in February,” Jordan declares. “Blaise is super excited about putting up with me lying around the house for that long.”
Blaise elbows him. “He’s got some sponsorship stuff to keep him busy so I don’t murder him.” The look he gives Jordan says clearly that he’s glad to have him back.
Jealousy is a bitch.
CHAPTER SEVEN
GRIFF
One of thebest parts of my life is coming home every night to adoring kisses. It would be nice if it was a little less sloppy, but she never did learn the art of kissing.
