‘It was stupid,’ I said. ‘I know.’
‘Don’t make me get the flashcards.’
‘I saiditwas stupid, not I was stupid,’ I replied.
I sat up gingerly and tried to touch my toes. My legs screamed in protest.
‘I can give you a calf massage, if you want,’ Dylan said. ‘I’ve got some physio training in my bag of nurse tricks.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m being a wuss. I just need to stretch.’
It wasn’t a lie. I was being a wuss. The thought of Dylan’s fingers on my body – even if they were digging painfully into my deep tissue – was more than I could stand.
I didn’t tell her I’d seen her on the boat with Romeo-Dylan. I wanted to. I’d planned to, even, as I’d gone back up the hill that day.
But when I finally got an opportunity, later that night, I chickened out.
I wasn’t exactlyafraidof what she was going to say. I knew what she would say. I’d always known, if I was honest with myself. I would ask her what the deal was, and she would sigh, and say something like, ‘What he and I have, it’s something really special.’
Well, she probably wouldn’t use those exact words. I couldn’t imagine that phrase coming out of her mouth. But that was what she wouldmean. Her and Romeo-Dylan, together. Me, a third wheel at best.
So no, I wasn’t afraid of what she was going to say. But that didn’t mean I wanted to hear her say it.
‘You okay?’ she asked. ‘You’ve got that thinking line between your eyebrows.’
‘Oh, fine,’ I replied. ‘Just wondering what the next group date will be, that’s all. They’ll have to come up with something pretty special to be worse than Love Jockey Hockey and the love machines.’
‘I’m going to be having screaming nightmares about Love Jockey Hockey for the rest of my life,’ Dylan said. ‘I don’t know what could possibly be worse. It’d have to involve broken bones, at a bare minimum.’
I was glad I didn’t have to find out. There were five names on the next group date card (‘Roses are red, violets are blue, when Cupid comes calling, is his aim true?’), and mine wasn’t one of them.
Dylan’s was, though. Of course it was. ‘Have a nice day, Mandie,’ she said. ‘I might be missing an arm or a leg or possibly my head the next time you see me.’
‘Try not to die,’ I said, in my sunniest, most nothing-is-wrong-why-would-you-think-that tone.
Jess D, Lily Fireball and I were the only ones left in the Villa. Lily immediately disappeared. ‘Want another baking lesson?’ Jess D asked.
‘Sure,’ I replied. I didn’t particularlylikebaking, but theprocess was calming, and it sure as hell beat moping around on my own, drowning in my feelings.
We’d produced some cupcakes by that evening, when the rest of the women, minus Naya, came trooping back in. ‘Naya won the one-on-one time with Dylan JM,’ Kumiko explained. ‘She’ll be back later. Maybe with a necklace.’
‘What was the challenge?’ I asked, offering around the tray of cupcakes.
‘Archery,’ Kumiko said, taking one. ‘ClassicMarry Me, Julietshit. The targets were heart-shaped. The arrows were pink. They made Z dress in a toga with a little gold crown.’
‘Seriously?’ Jess D said.
‘It was a laurel wreath,’ Belinda said, snagging a cupcake.
‘It was a two-dollar headband masquerading as a laurel wreath,’ Dylan said. ‘These are good, Mandie.’
‘It was all Jess,’ I said, offering the tray to Parisa.
‘So how did they judge it?’ Jess D asked. ‘Was Dylan JM’s mysterious friend back?’
‘Nope,’ Parisa said. ‘It was a basic competition. Naya shot the closest to the bullseye—’
‘Also heart-shaped,’ Kumiko said.
