She snorts. “Both can be true.”
We eat for a moment, the comfortable silence of two women who’ve known each other long enough not to fill every gap. I take another sip of wine, the buzz settling low in my chest.
“So anyway,” I say casually, because apparently, I’ve chosen chaos as my coping mechanism. “I don’t know. I guess I kissed Sawyer last week?—”
Vivian’s fork clatters against her plate. “What.” She stares at me like I suddenly sprouted a conjoined twin and the body is forming at my neck.
I stare back at her. “That’s definitely not a question. It’s a declaration.”
“Okay….Wait. What?” Vivian repeats, slowly, like she’s tasting the word. “YoukissedSawyer Stockton.”
“I’ve admitted this to you accidentally,” I protest. “That shouldn’t count.”
“It absolutely counts. You can’t just trip over a kiss and pretend it didn’t happen, and then not tell your BFF.” She threads her arms tightly across her chest, giving me her best faux-glare. “How was it?”
I feel heat creep up my neck. “It was…fine.”
“Fine?” She gasps. “You kissed a professional hockey player who looks like he was designed in a lab for public swooning and you’re giving mefine?”
“It could have been a mistake, right? I mean, I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve dated a lot…”
“Oh, sweetie.” Vivian leans forward, eyes sparkling. “The way he looks at you, like he wants to both protect and eat you at the same time, is kind of enchanting and disarming.”
“Like he wants to eat…” I freeze. “What are you trying to say?”
She grins. “Seriously. I can’t explain it, but there’s a playfulness…I don’t know, just something about him, when his name is brought up and you glow. Like right now, you started to talk about him and it’s like you’re lit up from within.”
My stomach drops. “I—really? I am?”
“Juliette.” She laughs. “Yes. You are. And it’s adorable. You two look amazing together. But more than that?” She waves her fork in the air. “This chemistry you two have is coming out in the social media posts you’re sharing and the workshop you held. The content you’re creating is gold. You understand how many likes your posts are getting, right? That engagement is helping your shop and that grant you’re going for.”
I consider her words. “It is?”
“Oh, massively,” she says. “I read the comment section. People love you two. They love Leaf & Letter. They love Sawyer awkwardly holding plants like they’re his emotional support greenery.”
“That’s not—” I try to argue, but my voice comes out thinner than I’d like.
“And don’t even get me started on the kiss,” she adds, gleeful. “How was it? Was it slow? Was it hot? Did he do that thing with his hand that guys sometimes do?—”
“Vivian.”
“—because he looks like a hand-on-the-jaw kind of guy.”
“Vivian!”
“Did he smile against your mouth? Did your knees go weak?” She cackles. “Did the world go quiet?”
“You’re reading too many romance novels.” My face is absolutely on fire. “Stop.”
“Did he taste like mint? Or hockey? Or minty hockey?—”
“Stop it!” I laugh, holding up a hand. “You are not allowed to interrogate me about his lips.”
“Oh, I amabsolutelyallowed.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. Best friend privileges.”
