“Who said I’m in love?” My cheeks heat.
A soft laugh escapes her, and I turn, glaring up at her.She grins down at me, her brows raised in that all too familiaryeah, okaymotherly look.
“Can’t you just tell me what to do?” I mumble. “You’re good at that. You always seem to know the right way.”
“That’s because I’m your mother,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “You know what to do, sweetie.”
I let out a slow breath, fiddling with the blanket.
“You need to talk to him, tell him you’re scared. I’m pretty sure he’ll tell you the same thing right back.” She pauses, leaning over to grab my phone from the coffee table and handing it to me. “But for the love of God, one of you needs to make the first move.”
“Aren’t the men supposed to make the first move?” I grumble.
Mom scoots out from under me with a chuckle. “Trust me, waiting for a man to make the first move is like waiting for rain in a drought.”
My head drops back against the couch cushion, and I sit up, watching her retreat to the kitchen.
“Sounds like you have some experience with that.” I snicker.
“You have no idea, sweetie,” she calls over her shoulder, laughter threading through her voice.
Make the first move.
I can do that, and what’s the worst that can happen? He tells me he can’t right now, and we go back to square one? If I take the leap and make the move, at least I’ll finally have all the answers I need. My thumb hovers over his name, nerves swooping low in my belly as I pull up our text thread.
Me: Hi friend.
I hit send, and immediately start chewing on my thumb. This is the first time I’ve texted. It’s always been him first and me staring at my phone like an idiot, hoping today isn’t the day he stops. Now he’s probably staring at my message, wondering if I’ve hit my head when we’ve already texted this morning.Oh God, why am I so bad at this?
Heat crawls up my neck. I flip my phone face down, tapping anxiously against the back of it. Maybe I should have just gone to see him instead. I’ve always shown up unannounced. Why would today be any different? And if he’s not home, Sarah or Halle might be. I could say I’m there to see them instead.
My phone vibrates, and I jump out of my skin. For a full second, I stare at it, heart hammering, before I flip it over.
Hunter: I was just thinking about you, friend.
My stomach dips.
Me: You were?
Hunter: I was.
Me: Oh…
My thumbs hover on the screen, panic setting in.
Hunter: Wanna know what I was thinking?
Me: If it’s something bad, then no. I don’t want to know
Hunter: I could never think anything bad about you.
Hunter: Wait I lied.
Hunter: There is one thing I hate.
Me: Let me guess, you don’t like it when I don’t share my muffins?
My breath catches. Joking feels safer than whatever this could be.
