“Frances, your order’s been up for two minutes!”
“I’m coming, Glendon!”
“Wait,” I say, peering past her to Zev, who is taking his sweet time getting back to us. “Fran, do you think we could be friends?” I shrug. I sound ridiculous. But I’m trying out spontaneity again. “Maybe hang out sometime?”
Her cherry-red cheeks blossom into a grin. “Yeah. I think we could.”
Eleven
“And then,I put my number on his ticket and wrote him a note telling him to text me.” I slide my laptop into the pocket of my backpack, standing in mine and Rosalie’s little kitchen. “Not exactly a love connection, but real Kate Beckinsale fromSerendipity.”
“But not a love connection?” Rosalie looks at me like I might be a feral animal.
“Calm down. Stop worrying about Callum Whitaker.” Man, that is a great name. A main male character kind of a name.
“I’m not worried about Callum Whitaker,” she says.
“Are you saying you’re worried about me?” I throw my backpack over my shoulders and eye her on my way to the door.
“I always worry about you, sweetie. I don’t want you getting your heart broken.”
“Rose,” I say. “Do you believe in the romcom remake?”
“Sure,” she says, but her faith is faltering. I can hear it in her voice.
“Then don’t stress. Every girl has to kiss a few frogs before she finds her prince.”
“I’m not sure that’s accurate,” Rosalie says. “How many frogs are you talking about?”
“Besides, Callum isn’t a frog. He’s now a friend.” I set my hand on the doorknob and puff out a breath of pent-up air. “A friend who kisses so magically that time pauses for one second just to let you enjoy it a little longer.”
“See.” She points at me. “This is why I’m worried. There was no magic with those other guys—which meant no heartbreak.”
“But no heart soaring either. Your heart can’t plummet if it’s never soared.”
“Fran,” she moans.
“If you were so worried, you shouldn’t have told him where I worked.”
“I told his friend! Not him!” she yells as I head out the door. “He had an extremely trustworthy face!”
“You’re right. Zev does have an honorable face. If you want?—”
“No, I don’t need a remake!” she yips. “I love you. I support you. I will support your loco journey to find love because you need to believe. But I will not be a guinea pig.”
“Rose, I know what loco means. I did take one semester of Spanish. Remember?”
Rosalie swallows. “Everyone knows what loco means, Fran. Just promise me you won’t fall for Callum Whitaker.”
I breathe and think, answering her honestly. “Soaring does lead to falling. But I learned long ago that I can’t be like my mother, Rose. I was meant to soar. We have wings, we just have to use them!” I study her worrisome face. “Be a believer, Rosalie.”
“I think right now, I’m more worried that I understood everything you meant in that analogy. You’re rubbing off on me,” she says, but I need to rub off on her a whole lot more. Rosalie deserves her happily ever after too.
Don’t get me wrong. Rosalie isn’t anti-love. She grew up in a happy home with happy parents—another example to me of what could be. She knows love is out there for the taking. But she’s awfully cautious with her heart, even more so with mine. Robert Pattinson—the engineer, not the vampire—broke her heart, and she’s been timid about love ever since.
“I have to go,” I tell her. “I have my meeting with Ellington.”
Rosalie and I live twelve blocks from campus, a little less than a mile. The sun is shining. It’s seventy-six degrees out, so I’m walking to class.
