“Oh. Well, thanks for helping Joss pick me up.”
“I didn’t need help.” I flick Asher’s ear from behind. “He tagged along because he’s bored.”
He throws up a single finger. “Um. Who was the onewho was all—” he shifts to a whiny voice“—Asheeeeeer, drive me to the airport because I’m lazy and helpless and like peer pressuring you into things.”
I grin. “I don’t recall.”
He doesn’t stop with the whiny voice.“Asheeeer, my car needs gas, and I want you to fill it up.”
Ali giggles. “She really does hate pumping her own gas.”
I scoff. “It’s gross.”
“Asheeeeeer, the airport is sofaaaar.”
“Okay.” I throw the only thing I can find at him—a wadded-up receipt. “We get it.”
Asher snaps his fingers. “Oh. That reminds me. You’re definitely still good to go to that wedding, right? Because I bought our plane tickets.”
“Yep. We need to book the hotel.”
He nods. “I keep forgetting to call them.”
“I forgot y’all were doing that,” Ali says.
I throw out some jazz hands. “The dynamic duo does Florida.”
Ali sighs. “I want to go to the beach.”
“We’re going tomorrow,” I remind her.
“It’s no fun going with you. You won’t even get in the water.”
The outside scenery is dominated by billboards for lawyers and traffic signs, so I fix my unseeing gaze on the back of Ali’s dark head, remembering my nightmare. “The ocean’s like a casino. You play long enough, it always wins.”
Without looking at me, she offers a hand. I squeeze it, and we hold hands until we reach my house. Asher dutifully helps with her suitcase, pecks us both on the cheek and bids us goodbye.
Tug, tug goes my chest.
Ali raises an eyebrow once the door shuts. “How is that guy still single?”
“I really don’t know.”
Why am I alone?
Ughhhhhh. My heart pulls in the absolute wrong direction as I remember his face when he said that, all strained and frowny.
It’s just empathy.
“He has to have some fatal flaw,” Ali says, wheeling her bag to the guest room. “Like... Maybe he chews his gum louder than a weed eater, or he regularly uses the wordirregardlessin conversation.”
Laughter bubbles up. “Maybe he has a secret obsession with cryptocurrency.”
After tossing the bag into the room, she returns, gasping loudly. “Maybe he’s bad in bed.”
I snort and throw myself onto my threadbare couch. “There’s no way that’s true.”
She follows and gives me a little smirk, crossing her legs with a fair bit of sass. “Thought about it, huh?”
