Later, we exchanged numbers. I internally rolled my eyes at myself when I sawDavis Adamsin my phone, sinceAdamswas also Reese’s last name. I should’ve been able to guess that for social media reconnaissance.
Maybe I’d liked going in blind, though; it stopped me from wondering if the person I saw on Instagram would live up to their profile’s hype.
Davis said he would text me details for the dance, plus some songs he thought I would like. I had some in mind for him,too, which made my stomach spin a little. He hugged me before saying goodbye; we’d parked in opposite directions. It wasn’t until I turned off Witherspoon Street and started up Nassau that I realized I’d forgotten my purse-that-I-literally-never-used back at the coffee shop.
I sighed, and then back to Crescent Moon I went. The sun was starting to sink in the sky, and even though I’d only been gone for ten minutes, the café had calmed—calmed enough that I could clearly see Marco through the front window; he had an entire couch to himself and was focused on his laptop. A few books and a couple of binders were splayed open on the cushions next to him.
Along with my purse!
“I tried calling after you,” he said by way of greeting when I marched up to him. He closed his laptop. “But you were definitely surfing some other galaxy.”
“Space cadet reporting for duty.” I sarcastically saluted him, then dropped the act. “I had my AirPods in. I couldn’t hear you.”
And I might’ve been in the middle of sending a text to Katie and the bridesmaids:It went well!!
As if on cue, my phone buzzed; I pulled it out of my pocket and placed it on the nearby coffee table, not yet ready to read the flood of messages. It vibrated again on the tabletop, the screen lighting up to show there were six new texts in the chat.
Once six became eight and eight became ten, Marco gave me a look. “Care to share what that was earlier?”
Not particularly, I almost said.
But thoseeyes.
Those damn honey-dipped eyes of his.
They looked dangerous.
Anyway.
“Earlier?” I asked, trying to play it cool.
“Yeah.” Marco moved his school stuff to make room for me on the half-moon-shaped couch. I waited a beat before sitting down; he and I hadn’t hung out like this in a while. “You and Davis.” He held up his hands before I could call him on it. “I swear I wasn’t eavesdropping. You just turn up the volume when you’re nervous.”
I glared at him. “Iwasn’tnervous.”
He ignored me. “Were you two on a date?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. His voice was teasing, but I swallowed my snark. “More of a predate,” I said eventually. “He goes to Hun and asked me to be his date to their junior prom. We wanted to meet in person first.”
“Mmm,” Marco hummed, which I somehow knew translated to,Someone set you up?
“Marco.” I sighed. “Don’t ask.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “Don’t tell.”
He opened his laptop again and went back to whatever he’d been doing earlier. I tried not to fidget next to him, but my thudding heart made that difficult. Because what if Ididwant to tell him about the bridesmaids’ Ready-Set-Date scheme? Eversince agreeing, I had felt the urge to talk to someone uninvolved about it, but I hadn’t been able to figure out who that uninvolved someone was. Because for once in my life I didn’t want to share with Austin. How confused would he be when I told him this game was my make-or-break moment with Katie? I also definitely didn’t want to tell my dads, and Connor would think the whole thing was ridiculous.
Marco glanced up at me after a few moments. “You alright, Mads?”
I flopped back against the couch cushions. “Marco, I never wanted to be one of Katie’s bridesmaids.”
“Ah, so youaretelling.” He closed his computer and folded his arms across his chest; I had his full and undivided attention. “Am I allowed to ask now?”
I waved my hand.Be my guest!
He smirked. “Did someone set up you and Davis?”
“Yes,” I said, and then let the whole saga spill out. Everything from my parents and me being excluded from Austin’s Parisian proposal to Katie asking me to be a bridesmaid, to the engagement party, to the bridesmaid slumber party (and with plenty of tangents along the journey). By the time I finished, we’d left Crescent Moon behind and were crossing St. Paul’s parking lot. My lungs wouldn’t stop fluttering. It had been such a relief to tell someone that I hadn’t been able to get the words out fast enough. “What do you think?” I asked when Marco didn’t offer an opinion. “Am I nuts?”
