Page 5

Danielle

“Y ou two are back early,” I say, surprised to find Honey and Alice waiting for me in the kitchen when I open the door. Then it dawns on me that their book club didn’t finish early. I’m the one who’s late.

“We really aren’t, but never mind that. Am I to infer from your mode of transportation that you’ve been asked out on two separate dates, with two different men, within the past twenty-four hours?” Alice asks, giddy excitement radiating off her as she bounces her pixie-sized self on the stool pulled up to the breakfast bar. "Shelia says you’re going to a dance at Virginia Tech, and now we see you riding home with a handsome stranger. This is just like when Amelia had to choose between the ranch hand and the horse’s veterinarian.”

Honey nods her agreement.

“There’s no way you could tell from here what he looks like or what we talked about,” I argue. “Wait. Shelia Gibson? Are you telling me Jake’s mom is going to Spread Those Pages meetings with the two of you now?”

It seems highly out of character for a woman who handed her son an anatomy textbook when he was nine because he asked what the word “erectile” meant after we saw an ad for E.D. medicine on TV. She told Jake to discuss any further questions with his doctor.

“She only comes for the appetizers and to socialize for a little while. She always leaves before the discussion heats up,” Alice clarifies. That makes more sense.

“Shame because it would probably do the poor woman some good to read those books. She’s more pent up than—"

“Nope. Not listening.” I stick my fingers in my ears and cut Honey off before she can finish her thought, then I turn my attention back to my best friend.

It’s no surprise to see Alice here. She loves the spicy book club as much as Honey does, and it’s becoming a tradition for them to come back and share dessert with me afterward. She and Honey were expecting me to be riding my bike home, so they were watching for me through the living room window. Now I have some explaining to do.

“Sit and tell us everything,” Alice insists. She pats the stool next to her as she takes bite of chocolate snowball from her bowl.

“Here you go, sugar.” Honey hands me a dish of my own. It’s a frozen chocolate milk concoction Honey started making when I was young, because before we got the Major Dollar in town we had to go all the way to Marnock for groceries. In the summer, any ice cream we bought would melt before we got back home. Honey’s snowball tastes like chocolate Italian ice.

Alice chops at the frozen dessert with her spoon and I take a big bite of my own. It immediately gives me a brain freeze, so I rub my temples. Honey puts her own empty bowl in the dishwasher and picks up a tea towel from the counter. Then my grandma leans her back against the closed refrigerator and joins our conversation from the other side of the breakfast bar.

“Yeah. Tell us more about Mr. Green Truck.” Honey wags her eyebrows at me and waves the towel like a tiny lasso.

“Yes. Details,” Alice agrees. Her feet are swinging, nowhere close to touching the floor. She might be tiny, but she is still a force to be reckoned.

“Ugh. Fine.” I throw them a bone. “His name is Mike Miller. He’s on the baseball team. They were at the restaurant for the Blue Crabs team dinner, and he needed a lesson from Yours Truly on how to pick the crabs. He’s from Idaho. I guess they don’t eat a lot of seafood out there. Then afterward he was headed to Major Dollar anyway, so he invited me to tag along. He didn’t like the idea of me riding home in the dark.”

“Chivalrous,” Honey muses.

“Ah, a protective romantic?” Alice practically squeals. “Did he ask you out? He did, I’m sure.” She answers her own question. “I love it. Straight out of an Emily Henry book. I’m totally using this for inspiration in my own stories.” She tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear.

Alice always looks very punk rock, although I have my doubts about if she could name even one punk rock band if her life depended on it. Today she’s wearing an oversized white tee printed with the words “the book was better.” She cut off the neckline, so it’s falling off one shoulder, and it’s tied up at her waist in a tight little knot. She’s wearing it over tight faux leather leggings with black Converse sneakers. She looks effortlessly hot, and it makes me self-consciously tug at my work uniform.

“Protective and romantic is a big leap from ‘stranger with a car.’ I don’t know him well enough to call him either of those things. And I hardly think this one counts as a date,” I object. “It was just one of the baseball players telling me there’s a baseball game on Wednesday. It’s his job. I doubt I would even get a chance to talk to him if I went. We didn’t exchange numbers or anything.” I ignore the sudden pang of disappointment that realization brings. “He was just being polite and dropping me off because he was stopping at the store and I live right here. I really don’t think it’s like that.”

“Are you sure? Because I don’t know many men in the habit of driving women home and inviting them out again in a few days if they aren’t interested.”

“I don’t even think I want it to be like that. Not really. He’s a baseball player. He already has one foot out the door. Why start something when we know it has an expiration date?” Sure, Mike Miller is nice and he has a mesmerizing dimple. And, fine, maybe I smiled a little when I was talking about him just now. Perhaps there are a few flutters in my belly because his car smelled like cedar and cinnamon. So our legs and our shoulders touched when we sat together on the picnic table, looking out over the water at sunset. So what? It wouldn’t go anywhere.

It could be one season, or it could be a few years, but eventually Mike Miller’s career will take him away from North Bay, and I already know I would not go with him. This is my home. I would never leave Honey, my job, and all of my friends for some guy. That’s exactly why it didn’t work out with Steve. I already know the same thing would happen with Mike.

“Maybe it’s not officially a date yet , but we are totally going to that game together. Neither one of us has class on Wednesday afternoons. What else are we going to do?” Alice squeals and wiggles her fingers in the air, giving jazz hands. Under that tough exterior she’s a hopeless romantic. I shrug because she has a point. Maybe I don’t intend to marry the guy who invited us, but who says I can’t go to a baseball game with a friend?

“Aaaaand, you’re going to visit Jake. Because he asked you to go to a dance. Wearing a dress. That one is totally a date. Even if it is with Jacob Gibson.” She shudders.

“As a friend,” I add quickly. It does feel a bit different this time, though. My stomach does a little flop. I’m not sure why. I’ve known Jake forever, and over the years he’s wiggled his way into a few naughty thoughts and a pretty intense crush on my end that lasted through all four years of high school (and possibly a little beyond). But he never felt the same way when we were teenagers and my crush has mostly faded over time. Now we are firmly rooted in the friend zone.

“I almost never look at him like that anymore, and I’m pretty sure he has never looked at me that way at all. And that, folks, is why I’m probably going to die alone surrounded by books and stray cats.”

“Alone and snuggling cats actually sounds like a day you would enjoy.”

“True. Is that so bad?”

I do like men. I like how they are funny and tend to take life a little bit less seriously, making everything into a game they believe they can win. I like being with someone who makes me feel safe and looks at the world through a different lens. Sure, I’d like to find a partner, but being surrounded by books and cats with as much alone time as I want also sounds pretty sweet.

“This is why you have me. I’ll help you pick out what to wear. Trust me, that man will be thinking way more than friendly thoughts about you when I’m through. They both will, if I have anything to say about it.” She wags her eyebrows the same way Honey did and giggles.

I shake my head and smile, following her when she hops off the stool and heads down the hall, but not before grabbing my snowball to take with me. We walk into the garage and up the stairs to my apartment. I can faintly hear Honey sorting the mail and grumbling at her bills in the distance.

“Project Redecorate is looking good. I love the paint color you chose.” Alice points to the new seafoam green accent wall behind my couch.

“Thanks, I still need to figure out a few more storage solutions for my clothes and books. There is only so much space under the bed.”

This place was originally built for my mom. She was young when she had me, and has always been kind of nomadic. We lived together in a camper van for five years when I was little, traveling the country. It was always just the two of us. When I was born, she didn’t put my dad’s name on my birth certificate. That’s why my last name is Daniels, like my mom and Honey.

Honey wanted the apartment to be somewhere her girls could always come home. We would find our way back to North Bay whenever the weather got too cold. Then after my grandpa died, we moved here permanently. The garage apartment is one large room with a double bed and second-hand sofa, separated only by a waist-high book shelf. There’s a tiny bathroom, a kitchenette, and one closet. It’s not much, but it was ours.

I was only twelve when Mom married Bob and they decided they had to save the world, so I moved back into the main house with Honey until I graduated from high school. When I started college, Honey offered to let me have my own space and take over the apartment again. Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit guilty about it. I do try to contribute some of my earnings from the restaurant, but Honey insists I use most of them for school. She already feels bad about not being able to help more with my student loans. I keep telling her that’s not her job, but she’s a stubborn old broad. If I weren’t staying here practically rent-free, maybe Honey could rent this space to someone to cover a few more of those bills. She hasn’t said anything, but I know she’s been feeling the pinch of the higher property taxes lately. The whole town has.

That’s a discussion I’ll need to have with Honey soon, but it can wait. For now, the question is… do I want Jake Gibson thinking more than friendly thoughts? That sounds terrifying, but also kind of fun.

I pull back the fabric curtain that serves as my closet door, revealing my entire wardrobe. Then I flop onto my bed, hanging my head off the side and looking up at Alice.

“Go ahead. Work your magic, my friend.” I upside-down smile at her.

Work her magic she does. That sociology paper is going to have to wait one more day. After an hour, my bed is piled high with the discarded clothes I’ve tried on and tossed aside, and Alice is standing over me with tweezers, plucking away at my unruly eyebrows.

“I can’t believe I’m wasting my talents helping you look this smoking hot for Jake freaking Gibson.” She sighs dramatically. “Especially when there is a new baseball player in town with his eye on you.”

“The feud between you and Jake is getting weird now that we are all adults. Don’t you think it’s time to kiss and make up?”

“Ew. Not likely. As if I would ever let him within ten feet of my mouth. We don’t know where he’s been. You had better keep that in mind this weekend.” She scoffs. “If you’re planning to touch him, you might want to think about getting a tetanus shot when you get home.” She may not like Jake, but that doesn’t stop her from taking two condoms out of her own purse and putting them in mine.

“I won’t be needing those. No one will be touching anyone. It’s just two friends going to a fundraiser.” With dancing, which does imply touching, but we don’t have to talk about that right now.

“If you say so. Maybe we should also pack some disinfectant spray in your bag, just in case. I’m sure his room is a biohazard.”

Jake and Alice have been at each other’s throats for years. We all played together constantly as kids, but they haven’t gotten along since Jake joined the popular crowd in high school, leaving Alice and me behind. I still hung out with him a lot outside of school because we are neighbors. He didn’t do it on purpose, but Alice started to get left out quite a bit. I think it hurt her, and she was too proud to admit it. She has been on Jake’s case ever since, and he gives it right back to her.

“Again, I won’t be needing that. Besides, it’s weird to think about whether or not I want Jake to touch anything. He’s like a brother to me.” Except he’s also so not like a brother. Jake is probably the hottest guy we know. At least he was until today. “Enough talking about him. What have you been up to?” I try to change the subject. I don’t like spending too much time listening to Alice badmouth my other best friend.

“Really? I just spent the entire evening with your grandmother and several other of North Bay’s finest seniors, so clearly nothing. You’re not getting off that easy. Tell me more about Mr. Baseball and how you got him so invested in your well-being.”

“His name is Mike,” I remind her. “But I think it’s a stretch to imply he’s into me.”

She waves the hand holding the tweezers through the air, dismissing my point. “It’s not a stretch at all. Who wouldn’t want to get with all of this?” she asks, motioning up and down my body. “I want it to be known that I support you and your choices, always. But in this scenario I’m Team Mike, all the way. Jacob Gibson does not deserve to be anyone’s first choice.”

“Noted. But I feel the need to point out you know almost nothing about Mike, and we also don’t know what Jake’s intentions are for this weekend. He might not even consider this a date. I’m looking at it as a favor for a friend.”

“Either way, you have been too good for that boy for years. He bounced around everybody else’s bedroom back in the day, even while he knew exactly how you felt about him. You deserve someone who knows how to sit still and give you his full attention. Now pass me that lip mask,” Alice instructs.

I don’t know much about Jake’s recent dating life, but I do know I can trust him just as much as I can trust Alice or Honey, and she’s not being fair to him. Dating people who were not me does not make Jake a bad guy. Especially because, while I think he knew, I never explicitly told him how I felt back then. I know better than to argue with Alice about Jake, though. Besides, she’s right about one thing. Mike definitely knew how to sit still and give me plenty of attention this afternoon. My mind wanders to his thigh pressed against mine under the table while he told those silly dad jokes.