He frowns. “It’s hours until the wedding.”
“I’m learning wedding prep is no joke.” I dim the screen and take a step away. “I should go.”
His frown deepens. We’ve barely had a chance to talk, and I know these few words have not satisfied everything he has to say. “Want me to walk you back?”
“That’s okay. I need to think.”
“Okay, but text me if you have more time this afternoon. I’m around.”
“I will.” But deep down, I know I won’t.
My mind spins with jumbled thoughts. I point my feet back down the hill toward the rental house. Memories play, and none involve Leo. For once, I’m not replaying all our good times. Instead, the past two days warm me.
Will and our chance meeting at the gas station. Our shared secret. Our mutual hatred of Fran. Our laughter when he toppled off his paddleboard and the electric moment that followed. And our fantastic kiss in the jewelry store. No doubt something’s there. Or there was. Before I sabotaged it.
I’ve been keeping him at a distance because I feared he’d be like Leo and every other immature boy I know. But he’s not. He’s not pushy. He’s been helping me. Encouraging me.
I’m the worst. At the house, I stomp onto the porch steps and wrench the door open. I sink onto the couch and drop my head into my hands.
I like him. I like Will.
There. I admit it. Admitting you have a problem is the first step. Or so I’ve heard.
And I do have a problem.
I like a boy I just met, and tomorrow, we’re both going home to different cities.
It might be nothing. But what if it’s something?
And thanks to my stupid no-dating-until-college rule and Leo’s sudden appearance, I may have ruined everything before it began. Will probably thinks we’re off making out somewhere.
I huff a sigh that turns into a growl, flop back on the couch, and count the ceiling beams. This is ridiculous. I’ve known him for less than forty-eight hours! You can’t like someone in that amount of time. What about the whole friends-first thing?
“Um, you okay?”
I startle and lift my head. Ava is standing at the island, partially hidden from view, steeping a mug of tea. I lie back down. “Oh, hey. I didn’t see you.”
“Clearly.” She’s smirking. “So—How’d it go?”
I groan again. “Ava, I’m an idiot.”
She chuckles, not bothering to disagree. “What are you going to do about it?”
I don’t know. And I’m saved from responding when the rest of the bridesmaids thunder downstairs.
“Time for nails!” Tonya plops a basket onto the coffee table.
Ava winks over her mug. This conversation isn’t over.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MORGAN
I wiggle my toes when Tonya finishes my nail polish, the shimmering pink a nice change from my usual neutral tones.
“Nice.” I’m a little girl again, my babysitter and her bestie fussing over me. “Thank you.”
Tonya twists the cap on the bottle. “No problem. I’d love to put a flowery decoration on them, but Ava wants them all the same.”
