Kidding aside, I needed arealplan. Cerebral. Smart. One that didn’t involve dragging myself through further embarrassment.
“Come on, ladies.” I reached for another slice, eschewing its high-calorie count. “Give me something more sagacious than flashing my goodies.”
Brown-haired head atilt, Sage blinked twice, then snagged her cell off her lap, thumb fixed to the button that awakened the know-it-all assistant. “Siri, what thefuckdoes ‘sagacious’ mean?”
“Squats!” Chloe and I barked, bits of pizza spewing from our mouths.
Sage growled, hauling herself off the carpeted floor. “Stupid potty-mouth cleanse. Stupid squats. Stupid big-ass words likesagaciousthat normal people don’t use.”
“Sagacious. Having or showing keen mental discernment and good judgment; wise or shrewd.”
Our collective eyes flicked to Sage’s phone facedown on the floor. We couldn’t help but laugh, the delayed timing of Siri’s robotic response, funny as all fucking hell.
Thirty minutes later, bellies full and achy from copious amounts of food and laughter, we lounged on the balcony that faced their charming courtyard. Fairy-light-dressed palm trees flickered bright, and the warm breeze that sashayed around us was airy enough to lull our woozy asses into a post-food-and-wine slumber.
Chloe cleared her throat, slaying any thoughts we might’ve been lost in. “You know, there are three letters we have yet to open. Perhaps the news each of them holds can be a deciding factor in all of this.”
Always pragmatic, Chloe brought up a fair point.
Those letters. I swear, just the mere thought of them made my heart seize.
All majoring in journalism, we had a mutual love for writing, along with ambitious dreams to someday work for a prestigious magazine. During the summer semester, Professor Mays suggested we apply for a winter internship withHot Shotmagazine, and for shits and giggles, we did, amused by the possibility. The letters of acceptance—or probably rejection—landed in our mailboxes two days ago and remained unopened, the unknown far less nerve-wracking than the known. We’d vowed to keep each personal letter housed in our purses ready to open, together, whenever we grew some damn balls.
If accepted, the three-month internship would take one, or hopefully all of us to New York City, which was doable since eighty percent of our classes were already online. However, rejection and acceptance seemed equally terrifying. We found ourselves hiding from either possibility like apocalypse survivors hide from the undead.
“I say we go ahead and open those flipping envelopes,” Chloe told us, her emerald-greens twinkling as bright as the lights on their courtyard. “We’ve held out long enough, not to mention acceptance comes with a deadline to respond.”
“Yep,” Sage agreed. “Imagine if we’re accepted? Oh, the freaking joy!” She rose to her feet, arms fanned out, ebony locks fluttering as she twirled around the small balcony. “Macy can tell Lucas, that clueless motherhumper, to eff off as she sails toward New York.”
Thoughts of a possible getaway soothed me, its timely convenience essential in order to flee the mishmash my drunk ass and my intoxicated heart produced with one measly click. God knows the last thing I wanted was to build a block of emotions between Lucas and Harper, nor a wall of awkwardness between me and the guy who’d been my best friend since the time other boys our age gave me hives.
Stomach flip-flopping, I nodded, unable to fight the resolved smirk pulling at my lips. “It’s settled, ladies. There’s unopened mail we must tend to.”
6
Truth.
It’s what AJ served hot and ready like the glazed donuts we sometimes picked up on our way to early morning football practices. Truth is what one avoids when trying to keep emotions in check, afraid of facing its ensuing consequences.
She’s not Macy.
AJ could’ve just stopped right there because those three words alone rode me hard. No one compared to Macy, a ball-busting factoid better known as myhiddentruth.
Feigning confusion I asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?” I stroked the scruff on my jaw, aware my question would go down as the second stupidest one I’d asked all year—the first stupidest one had oozed out of my mouth like Nickelodeon slime days before. I knew what AJ had meant, yet my bullheaded ass preferred to hear it out loud from a voice other than the one buzzing in my head.
“Seriously, bro? You really need to ask?” He settled back into the passenger seat as though gearing up for some Dr. Phil heart-to-heart. “She’s made for you. Don’t get me wrong, Harper’s definitely got it goin’ on. Cute, dope body…yadda yadda yadda. But everyone except you”—he punched my shoulder—“can see your whole demeanor shift whenever Macy’s around. You actually glow like that effing vampire pretty boy in Twilight.” He removed his ball cap to scratch his head, then slapped it back into place. “What more can I say, man? You pulled a shock-and-awe by proposing to Harper and I kicked myself for not opening my mouth about it before, telling you what a dumb-ass you were for hooking up with someone like Harper instead of Macy. I mean, she’s not yourperson,your ride or die. Plus, most times, she acts like a stuck-up B.”
He stalled for a few beats as though waiting for me to react to his last comment. There was no need; Harper had a propensity to be a conceited little bitch—a shortcoming I guess only I’d learned to tolerate over time.
At my blatant nonreaction, he went on. “Truthfully, we all expected you’d end up with Macy. Especially considering you’ve made it perfectly clearnoneof us can fucking touch her—well, not me since, you know…Sage.”
AJ and Sage. Two destined lovers who’d yet to figure shit out. Their on-and-off relationship gave me whiplash. Which made me ponder whether or not I should’ve had my ears open to meant-for-you insight from someone who, like me, failed to grasp a bona-fide clue. While on my soapbox, I will unashamedly admit I did warn my teammates to steer clear of Macy. If I couldn’t have her—no thanks to that stupid “friends only” pact—damn straight none of those fuckers could either.
Listening to AJ spit nothing but facts made the gaping hole in my chest grow tenfold.
After our powwow, we decided to grab Pancake Shack’s special to go. When I dropped AJ off at his house, it felt way too soon to head back home—and showing up to Harper’s seemed out of place until I got my mind straight.
Instead, I trekked over to more neutral territory.
