CHAPTER ONE
My web browser,much like my brain, has too many tabs running. I can practicallyhear my mind whirring in time to the hard drive on my laptop. Ihave three windows open with job search prospects, another with acompany’s employment policies, plus two fandom-related pages—onewith the latest fanfic I’m reading and the other with the fandomforum I belong to—and a Facebook events page that’s awaiting anRSVP.
I’m ignoring thatlast one. Or trying to, anyway.
The sound of keysjingling outside the front door makes my fingers pause over thekeyboard. My best-friend-slash-roommate Evie is on a date with hernew boyfriend, and I thought I’d have the place to myself for theevening, which accounts for the mess I’ve allowed to accumulatearound me. And the fact I’m already wearing my pajamas, even thoughit’s only seven o’clock.
The door opens andthe sound of Evie’s laughter precedes her into the apartment. Sheand Wesley tumble through the door together, lips locked and handsgrasping.
My brain tells meto jump up and run to my room or, at the very least, announce mypresence. Instead, I sit frozen on the couch. With any luck,they’ll stumble their way to Evie’s bedroom without noticing me. Ican make my getaway then—slip out of the apartment and take mylaptop to the café down the street. Sure, I’m wearing pajamas, butI could grab a jacket and leave it on. Plenty of people wear pajamapants in public these days, right? I never thought I’d be one ofthem, but I also never thought I’d be divorced, back in myhometown, unemployed, and living rent-free in my best friend’scondo. Or that said best friend would be dating my brother, whojust moved back to town after nearly two decades away. Between thatand certain events during my teen years, I could teach a masterclass in life not always turning out how you expect.
In keeping with myown particular brand of luck, the pair drift toward the couchrather than down the hall. As they kick off their shoes and beginstripping off jackets and scarves, I know my window of opportunityis closing, and it’s only a matter of time before other clothesstart flying.
“Umm,guys?” I say tentatively.
Evie lets out ahigh-pitched squeal and wrenches away from Wesley. As she spinstoward me, I see the top two buttons of her blouse are undone, so Iavert my eyes, resisting the urge to cover them like a little kidduring a kissing scene in a movie.
“Stella!” Evie says breathlessly. The sound of rustlingmaterial tells me she’s doing up her buttons and straightening herclothes. “Wesley and I…we were…I thought you were going out for theevening. I’m so sorry.”
“Pleasedon’t apologize,” I say, still not looking at them. “This is yourapartment.”
The quiet rumbleof Wesley’s laughter finally has me peering in their direction.He’s standing behind Evie with his hands loosely gripping her hips.Evie’s lips twitch as she elbows him, but that only makes him laughharder.
“Gladyou find this amusing, big brother,” I tell Wesley, although I’mholding back laughter now too.
Iactuallyamgladhe finds it amusing because I’m sure many people would be annoyed.That’s just one of the many nice things about your best friend andyour brother finally getting together after decades of dancingaround their feelings for each other.
Evie’s amusementfades as she turns back to me. “Everything okay? Didn’t you have adate with Tannis tonight?”
“Oh,yeah, I canceled,” I say as casually as possible.
The relief thatflashes across Evie’s face is quickly replaced by concern. Bothemotions are why I was aiming for casual; I’ve already interruptedher night with Wesley, and I don’t want to keep them from theirplans by talking about Tannis, especially since Evie can’t standher. She’s been telling me for weeks that I deserve better than anon-again, off-again non-relationship that’s ruled by the whims of ajerk. When Tannis called late this afternoon to tell me she’d be anhour or more late for our date because she was across town at a barwith friends, I told her not to bother coming at all. I alsosuggested she delete my number from her phone.
“Do youwant to talk—” Evie starts, but the rest of the sentence falls awayas I hop off the couch.
“Let meget out of your hair. I just need a minute to throw on someclothes, and then I’ll head out.”
“Youdon’t have to leave,” Evie says quickly, looking at Wesley forbackup.
“Wecould all hang out,” he says. “Make some popcorn, watch a movie. Wecould even make a blanket fort, just like old times.”
His cajoling tonemakes me chuckle. Wesley and I grew up next door to Evie; ourparents were best friends and, since all three of us kids were soclose in age, we were like one big, happy family who did everythingtogether. For our entire childhood, we had the run of ourdownstairs rec room, with its ancient TV and VCR, ’70s-erafloral-print couch and chairs, and games and toysgalore.
“Someother time,” I say. “And I mean that. No one builds a blanket fortlike you do, Wes.”
Eviemurmurs something I can’t hear and slips out of the room. Knowingher, she wants to give Wesley and me a moment alone, even thoughI’m the one trying to leave sotheycan be alone.
Wesley crosses theroom and slings his arm over my shoulders. “You good, LittleStar?”
I smileat the nickname. Wesley was eleven or so when some old movie piquedhis curiosity about the Latin language. When he discovered it wasno longer taught in school, he took it upon himself to learn someof the basics. One of the first things he discovered was thatStella means ‘star’ in Latin, and so he started calling me ‘LittleStar’. He’s only sixteen months older than I am, but he’s alwaystaken his role as big brother and protector seriously. Untilrecently, I hadn’t heard the nickname in years, but he’s gone backto using it, along with Evie’s childhood nickname: Buttercup, aftertheir shared love ofThe PrincessBride.
“Allgood,” I say, leaning against him. “It won’t always be likethis.”
He eases me awayso he can look at me, his eyes questioning. I didn’t even mean tosay the words in the first place. Now isn’t the time to elaborateon how I’m struggling with feeling like a complete and utterfailure in life, so I say, “Me living here with Evie and you livingin the basement at home.”
Wesley has onlybeen back in town for a week and a half, and he’s been staying inthe converted basement apartment of our childhood home. Even thoughit’s a self-contained apartment with its own entrance, Mom and Dadadore Evie, so if she shows up to meet Wesley at the house, theirplans inevitably get side-tracked.
Wesley’s facecreases in a frown. “You know I never mind having you around,right? And neither does Evie. She’s told me repeatedly that she’snot in any hurry for you to move out.”
