Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
If Fizzy catches any of this, she’s polite enough not to say anything. “Thank you for bullying me into bringing her,” I say. “I’ve never seen her like this.”
Fizzy gazes at both the girls fondly. “She’s definitely in her element.”
“How did she know everything that was going to happen? The set list, even what they’d be wearing. Where’d she learn all that?”
“It’s what fangirls do,” Fizzy says with a shrug. “It’s the same way you know when a new Shimano derailleur is coming out for your fancy mountain bike.”
My attention snaps back to her and I grin. “Look at you talking about bike parts.”
She reaches for a cookie and breaks it in two, handing half to me. “Some might say I’m an expert at typing things into the Google search.” She studies her cookie. “Even went hunting for pics of you.”
“Me?”
“You know, on set, mountain biking.” She pauses, shrugging causally. “With girlfriends.”
“And?” I lean against the counter at her side, smothering a smile. She is so bloody obvious. “What did you find?”
One side of her mouth turns down into a frown and carves a small dimple in her left cheek. “Nothing. Your Instagram name is a bunch of random letters and numbers that I was only able to track down because I know Jess who knows Natalia who happened to tag you in something, like, five years ago. You have four followers and two posts. It was both a relief and disappointing.”
“We’re supposed to be focusing on your love life, Fizzy.”
“Just feels unfair,” she says, and her smile is easy but her eyes are tight when she looks at me, “now that we’re becoming friends, that we’re only focused on finding someone for me and not you.”
I look out to where the show is winding down and Wonderland is saying their final goodbyes. Nothing good can come from this. We both know it and yet we keep ending up here. “Well, I’d be surprised if there are photos of me with women anywhere. I don’t date much these days.”
“Have you ever tried DNADuo?”
“Me? Definitely not,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s not that I don’t believe it or anything, I just… if I had a match, I’d want to take it seriously, and I just can’t right now.”
“Jess was the same way. With Juno,” she says, clarifying. “She wasn’t interested in getting involved with anyone until Juno was in college.”
“Sounds familiar.”
“I’ll tell you what I told her: that makes for a boring fucking book.”
“Well, maybe one day,” I say. “I tried dating a few times when Stevie was younger, but any woman worth pursuing wants more than the occasional weeknight together. Plus, whoever I’m involved with gets me, Stevie, and Nat.”
“How long have you been divorced?”
“Stevie was two.”
“Oh wow. She was so little.”
There was a time when a comment like this—no matter how well-meaning—would have sent me down a rabbit hole of guilt. Stevie was young and going through the divorce was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do, either. “She was.”
“But you and Nat are close now? I’ve heard Stevie talk about her a few times, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her at the school during pickup. She’s hot.”
I laugh. “She is. And she has a very young, also very hot boyfriend whom I expect to propose to her any day now.”
“How nice for her.” The moment stretches out, tense and knowing. I expect her to look away; she doesn’t. Instead, she clucks her tongue sympathetically. “Too bad for you you’re no good at compartmentalizing.”
I decide to stop dancing around it. “Specifically, I’m not good with casual sex.”
The word sex flares out between us like a flamethrower and she grins. “Yes, actually I meant too bad for me that you’re no good at compartmentalizing.”
I laugh at this. “You are an honest-to-God menace, Felicity.”
“You like it.”
I pretend to think about it, and she comes right up on tiptoes, growling in my face.
Finally, I relent. “You are tolerable.”
She sets back down on her feet and leans against the counter beside me. “Delightful,” she says.
“Bearable.”
“Gifted and charismatic.”
“Pushy and opinionated.”
“Your new best friend. Say it.”
Her hand rests near mine. My pinky twitches, brushing against hers. If I move away now, I could pretend it was an accident. But I can’t, and instead shift my finger so it rests on top of hers.
She curls her finger around mine. Heat spears through me, and the urge to turn into her, to press her against the counter, lift her up, step between her legs, and—
I pull in a slow, deep breath. “My new best friend.”
nineteen FIZZY
Juno is no longer a tiny child.
Which means when we pull up outside Jess and River’s house, and both girls are passed out like sacks of flour in the back seat, there is no way I can carry Juno to the doorstep.