“Middle school,” I answered with a shrug. “It was a great escape from real life.”
The room quieted, the girls sharing looks like they wanted to know more aboutthatlittle comment, but I brushed hurriedly past it.
“Memoirs are a guilty pleasure of mine, too. And historical fiction. Oh, and cozy mystery! Ilovea cozy mystery.”
“What about romance?” Maven asked with a waggle of her brows. “You read any spicy books?”
I flushed so hard the table erupted with laughs.
“That’s our answer, I think,” Livia teased. “Don’t be shy, my love. Trust me — nothing you’ve read is kinkier than what I’ve lived in real life.”
“No lies told there,” Grace said, tilting her beer toward Livia.
“Romance books are my favorite to read,” I said, a faint smile finding my lips. “They get such a bad rep, I think. Literary snobs turn up their noses at the entire genre. But it’s the bestselling one there is — and it makes perfect sense. We’re all looking for love, aren’t we? Whether we desire it from a partner or a parent or a sibling or a friend. We all crave acceptance for who we are. We fantasize about not just being seen, but being chosen. We wonder what it would be like for someone to look at us, with all our quirks and flaws, and think, ‘Yeah. That. I like that. I want that in my life.’” I shrugged. “And with romance books, you get to experience that feeling of falling time and time again — the butterflies, the stomach flips, the longing, the heartbreak and pain — only to know you’ll be put together in the end. It’s quitelovely, actually. No happy endings are guaranteed in real life, but with romance books, you know it’ll all turn out okay. And it fills you with hope, doesn’t it? That maybe things will be okay for you in the end, too.”
I’d picked up a colored pencil somewhere in my ramble, and I smiled as I colored in Idris Alba’s shirt. When no one said anything, I paused, looking up with my neck heating again.
“Okay, Miss Poetry,” Livia said with a curl of her lips. “Is this how you reveal that you write, too?”
“Oh God, me? Never,” I said on a laugh.
“Well, after that little spiel, you may want to consider it,” Chloe said. “As a teacher, I feel like I’m certified to speak on these things and you, my dear, have a gift.”
“She probably speaks so eloquently of love because she’s getting dicked down by the hot general manager,” Grace said, doing a little dance in her chair. “Big Boss Daddy Energy right there, ow owww.”
Everyone laughed.
I nearly puked.
Somehow, I managed a smile despite the urge to vomit. “He’s quite the man,” I answered carefully.
“Okay, but I have a question.” Maven shared a glance with Grace before she opened her mouth, shut it again, and then tapped the table with one long nail before asking, “How do you and Coach know each otherreally?”
The table went silent, all eyes on me.
Double shit.
“We went to college together,” I said.
“Well, we know that.” Maven waved me off. “But were you just classmates or friends or…?”
Again, everyone leaned in, and I felt my skin prickle at the back of my neck.
I wanted to trust them. I wanted to share with someone and talk about it, to have a safe space.
But were they safe?
What if they told Nathan?
If he found out Shane and I used to date and I didn’t tell him…
I shuddered, hands wrung together in my lap again as I stared at them.
“I…” I wet my lips before looking up at them. “If I tell you all, will you promise not to say a word to anyone? Not even your husbands or boyfriends or—”
“You can stop right there,” Livia said, holding up a finger. “What happens at girls’ night stays at girls’ night. We are a fortress, this crew. Trust me.”
“I mean, Maven was married to my brother when I asked her to keep my secret that I was shagging his best friend. And she did,” Grace pointed out. “Without question.”
