And just like that, a devilish grin tugs at the corner of my mouth.
I’ll be gone for half the month of December—too far for Isla to hover over me, attempting her matchmaking magic. How’s she going to set me up with someone while I’m playing games in a different zip code?
The answer? She won’t.
But I’ll also kind of miss seeing her.
What the hell?
The thought moves in and sets up camp even though I try to bat it away. It nags me during the whole drive home. Finally, I reason that maybe I’d just miss her scheming because it will keep things interesting. Or maybe I like the sweet smell of her perfume and the sparkle in her eyes.
Well, of course you do, jackass.
But it doesn’t matter. Isla and I are moving in two very different directions when it comes to romance, so whatever this feeling is, it’s better left unexplored.
For now, I’ve got the perfect excuse to turn the tables on her. And I plan to enjoy every second of it.
9
THE LIST OF YOU
ROWAN
Before I play my ace, though, I’ve got a homework assignment to finish. A little later, I’m lying in bed, fiddling with the Notes app on my phone, The Clash playing on my bedroom speakers and Wanda snoozing on the pillows next to me. I’m trying to boil down Isla Marlowe into a few traits—to prove I can play her game.
The first one, I laid down in the café, when I said she had a memory like a steel trap. She sure does, and she’s also persistent. But that word—persistent—could be twisted the wrong way, so I won’t use it. She’s positive. Relentlessly so.
Ah, I’ve got it.
I tap out the second list item in my notes and keep rolling through the things I know about her. She’s a voracious collector of planners and notebooks—pretty, shiny ones. She’s always gathering info, always organizing, as if the world makes more sense if it’s tied up in something decorative. I write that down.
I think about how she outsmarted me at thebookstore, and the next trait comes to me immediately. She’s a formidable competitor.
I write that down, too, but I expand on it a little, giving it some color.
Then, I study my notes, wanting to put them in just the right order and win this game with her.
Hmm. One more thing will make a list of five.
She’s sexy as hell. Her hair is shiny. Her lips are too damn pretty. But this game isn’t about her appearance. She’s too brilliant for me to get away with that, so I don’t try.
I decide to come back to the fifth item in a few minutes. For now, I clean up the note, smooth it out, and finish the draft as “London Calling” winds down. For good measure, I run it through Grammarly to catch any mistakes.
Just as I’m about to finalize it, a message pops up from Isla.
Isla: Hi, Rowan! I made plans for our next get-together. Are you ready?
Oh, Isla, just you wait.
Rowan: The question is, are you ready?
Isla: For the get-together? Of course.
Rowan: Nope. For my homework assignment. I’m ready to turn it in—the list of YOU.
Isla: Oh well, by all means. Bring it on.
I drop my note into a text, still hunting for that perfect final item. Maybe something about her podcast? But shedoesn’t do that anymore, so it’s not quite right. I read over my list one more time, then read it out loud to triple-check. To win with her, I need to be one step ahead.
