“Hey!”
He’s an idiot in love. I can tell, but fuck, I think I might also be an idiot in love. I nearly break out in a cold sweat. No. I don’t have to be afraid. I trust them.
“Come on in.” I step back, gesturing him inside.
“Still wanna go get coffee?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Darcy grins. “Then there’s no point in me coming in.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re right. Alright, let’s go then.”
The walk to the coffee shop is pretty short from my apartment, but I’m still half-frozen by the time we get there.
“Jesus, it’s cold,” Darcy mumbles, shivering as he pulls the door openand steps inside.
“Fuck, it really is.”
The line is empty, and when Darcy has ordered his nasty cinnamon tea and I’ve ordered my coffee—hot for once instead of iced—we sit down at our usual table. He takes a sip of his tea, eyeing me over the brim of the mug. “What’s new with you?”
“What’s new with me? Nothing.”
Darcy laughs. “Liar. Tell me about Ben and Landon.”
I shake my head. “Nothing to tell.”
“Double liar. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
Holding my nose up in the air, I shudder. “That’s gross, Darce.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re full of it. Come on, I’m nosy.”
I want to be more open with him. I want to tell him about Lincoln, about my fears, about my worries, and about how I feel for Ben and Landon. “You won’t tell West anything?”
He looks offended. “Park, we’ve been friends since we were sixteen. When have Ievertold your secrets?”
Well, never, but I also haven’t told him many of them. I inhale a deep breath. “I’m not as big of a whore as I act like.”
Darcy blinks at me, his eyes going wide and owlish, then he laughs. Cackles, really. “Sure. Okay.”
“I’m serious.” I don’t know why it’s suddenly so important for me to make him believe that, when I spent so long trying to make him think the opposite.
He raises an eyebrow. “So you’renotfucking around with Ben and Landon, then?”
“I think I’m in love with them.”
Darcy’s jaw drops open. “What? You just met them. Well, you just met Landon.”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Yes. I was there. Literally two nights ago at the bar.”
“No. We’ve been hanging out for months. Since before my art exhibit.” Darcy stares at me blankly, so I continue. “Remember when I said I was sketching a macho football player?” Darcy nods slowly. “That was Ben.”
“That was months ago,” Darcy hisses.
“That’s what I said, Darce. Keep up.”
