Including the little bit of jealously that never seems to go away.
Jules shrugs while she responds to his text, then tosses her phone back beside her. “He tries to be.”
“But he’s not good at it?” I think back to the picture she sent me of him holding up a poster after one of his baseball games that asked her to prom. It’s not a gesture I would’ve found appealing, but Jules seemed pretty taken by it.
Her brow creases into a series of cute little lines, and she takes a moment to think. “It’s more stereotypical romance. Roses before a date. Pulling out my chair when we go out to eat. Chocolates on Valentine’s Day.”
Now I’m just confused. “Those things aren’t romantic?”
“Oh, they are. Don’t get me wrong, it’s super sweet, and I appreciate all that he does. He’s very thoughtful. But it’s not…” I can see her struggle to explain. She pushes the laptop away and sits up. I roll over on my back so I’m looking up at her, smiling at the way she frowns. “It’s generic, like turning on the radio instead of putting on a curated playlist. Or giving me caramel chocolate instead of nougat.”
I think of her eating the top off a Snickers bar to save the bottom half for last. “You do love your nougat.”
Her eyes grow comically wide. “It’s so good, and I don’t know why.” We both laugh. “I don’t know.” Her smile fades a bit, and she sighs. “It’s like, there’s no real imagination behind it.” She groans andcollapses beside me. “Now I just sound like an asshole. He really is so sweet, and I’m over here acting like it isn’t enough.”
I pull her in, and she puts her head on my shoulder. “You’re not an asshole.” She makes a sound like she disagrees, and I run my hand through her hair. “He can be sweet and nice and still not know how to make a playlist.”
When she chuckles, I feel victorious. “He loves me. But sometimes, I’m not sure he really gets me. Does that make sense?”
I squeeze her tighter, not really knowing what to say to that. Tyler seems great, at least from what I know about him and the short time we’ve known each other. There’s no doubt he cares about her; he’s shown up time and time again to prove it. But Jules deserves the curated playlists, all the chocolate-covered nougat, and dancing in the rain.
She deserves everything.
“I get it,” I tell her quietly. He’s roses when he should be peonies.
Chapter Three
Julia
Hanging out at the pool in June is my favorite. The temperature isn’t yet unbearable, and the water is still too chilly for most, which means plenty of open chairs. We head to the other side of the guardhouse where we have a view of the entire pool deck. Chloe snags the lounge chair to my left, and Tyler claims the one to my right. Alex tosses her bag on the chair beside Tyler, both of them excited about the new water basketball hoop the pool installed in the offseason.
I squint up at the sun. It’s still relatively low, but morning rays are brutal, even through the clouds. As anxious as I am to open my new book and get a little color on my skin, I snag my SPF 50 first.
“Damn girl, what were you doing in Europe?”
Alex stands at the base of her lounge chair clutching her Cincinnati Reds T-shirt and glances down at herself in confusion. The navy blue bikini top looks great against her slightly tanned skin and showcases the brand-new lines intersecting across her stomach. She’s always been slim, but now, she’s toned. I let my gaze roam up and across her stomach all the way to her equally defined arms.
Whatwasshe doing in Europe?
“I don’t know,” she says, still confused. “Ran. Swam. Ate good food and drank a lot of wine.” Her eyes meet mine, and I swallow and look away, wondering why I feel like I need to dive into the cold water.
Tyler rips off his shirt and tosses it on his chair, and I immediately look at him. His body is smooth and muscular, his intense baseballregiment keeping him in amazing shape. Where Alex’s new abs are subtle, Tyler’s are cut, as if chiseled by the fitness gods.
It makes me wonder why I keep stealing glances at Alex instead.
“Must be a bummer that you can’t legally drink here,” Tyler says sympathetically.
She smirks. “Legally being the key word.”
He laughs and holds out his fist, which Alex bumps with her own. This time, when our eyes meet, I don’t look away.
“Jules, do you mind putting lotion on my back?”
Chloe holds out her half suntan lotion, half tanning oil contradiction in front of me, and I take it, grateful for the distraction and wondering why I need one in the first place.
A Twizzler hangs out of Chloe’s mouth while she fills out a quiz called “How Well Do You Know Your Bestie?”
“You look like a mom,” I tell her while she scribbles on one of the pages.
