Page 57 of Dear Future Husband

I snorted as I typed.

Wow, this boy…swoon.

I needed a minute tocatch my breath and figure out a decent reply, so I rolled out of my bed, limbs a little flimsy, to dress myself in some jean shorts and a cornflower blue tank before I flopped back onto the bed.

I laid on my stomach, legs kicking up behind me as I opened my phone back up to a new message.

I paused, lost for words because, yes, while I loved the last couple of movie nights with Chelsea—I was, I hated to admit it, jealous.

I wanted friends to eat pizza and hangout with, but I only had two friends in the world and one of them was rarely around. That was my next thing I needed to conquer once I could walk without stumbling. Get outside and expand my circle.

Maybe I’d even get a job, go to school, join a club. Theoptions were endless. I’d find something. I just needed to walk, to become more independent.

I would, I had to.

My time with Annalise came and went, leaving me feeling brutally abused. I showered off the pained sweat and dressed in PJs, a teal tank top, and black shorts.

Before leaving my room, I glimpsed the backpack Trey had packed from the Mason home—my old home—still lying on the floor from where he tossed it in the middle of our kiss.

Later. I would deal with the bag full of mystery items later.

Chelsea and I only got through one movie later that night before she was dead asleep on the couch. I draped a blanket over her, turned the TV off, then retreated to my room to find one missed call from Trey.

I smiled as my phone pinged with a message.

I dialed up his number. The phone only rang twice before he answered.

“May! How are you, gorgeous?”

I giggled. “Doing alright, handsome. How are you?”

“Better now,” he said with a sudden ruckus of voices blustering out in the background on his side of the phone.

“Is your party still going on?” I asked, smirking at what I made out to be a voice calling Trey’s name repeatedly. Like a needy child begging for attention.

He grunted. Whatever he saidwas muffled but sounded a lot like scolding. “No, it’s just my roommates. I went into my room, but they heard me on the phone and came to investigate. They thought it was my, and I quote,super-hot mom. I swear—”

I snickered. “I don’t blame them. Chelsea is a MILF.”

He groaned over the line while another voice called out, “See! Maybelle gets me.”

“Get out of here, Larson. And May, don’t encourage him, please.” Multiple sources of laughter echoed to me, joining my own.

Suddenly, an uproar of Trey yelling and the other voices bellowing ricocheted through the speaker. Loud enough that I had to remove the phone from my ear until another unfamiliar voice addressed me.

“Maybelle?”

“Yes?”

“This is Bear. You’re coming to the scrimmage next Friday, right?”

All the background noises went silent, even Trey. I hesitated, not exactly sure what to say. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn’t quite know what to say.

“Uh, hi, Bear,” I said, the other line still expectantly quiet, “I mean I’d love to but—”

“She said yes!” the voice belonging to Larson whooped out, sending the rest of them back into their chaos of hooting and hollering.

Oh shoot.