"Jo!"
"Okay," she grumbles. "But it was like twice this week. Don't be so dramatic."
I huff out a laugh. "Youdid not just callmedramatic."
"Eh, let me check the tapes. Vrrrrrrt!"
I sigh, waiting for her to wrap up this performance.
"Don't be so dramatic," she repeats exactly as she said it before. "Yep. Looks like I did."
"Cute," I say sarcastically. "Now, explain."
She exhales heavily. "I'm fine, Tess. I just forgot to eat after recording. It's not that serious."
"Okay, well, itcouldbe that serious if you keep letting it get like that. You just said it already happened twice this week."
"And it won't happen again," she promises. "Deal?"
"If it does, your equipment's relocating. Because I'm moving in."
She laughs, but I don't. Maybe I'm more worried about my sister than I realized or maybe I'm searching for more reasons to keep thingsplatonic with Liam, but I didn't even know I was considering that until now.
"Wait… are you serious?" she asks.
"I don't know," I blurt, now more confused than before. "But I will be homeless—and jobless—again by fall so… maybe? I'd just prefer it if it wasn't to babysityou."
Jo scoffs. "Well, I'd love to have you, Tessie, but I'm gonna need you to leave the attitude in G.C."
"Just take care of yourself," I say, my annoyance clear.
Jo deepens her tone. "Yes, ma'am."
I shake my head, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder, and digging through my boxes for one of my two Gators shirts.
"So, how is your favorite ball-handling money-guzzler?" she asks as casually as if she askedHow's the weather?
"Liam's fine," I say simply, too afraid that if I say more, she'll read too much between the lines. "I'm just getting dressed for his game today, actually."
"Aw, you're so supportive. I can practically hear the life-sucking wedding bells now."
I roll my eyes. "Stop. It's not like that."
I flap my shirt against my legs trying to shake out the wrinkles that grew into it from being shoved into a pile.
"Mhmm, but you want it to be." My hands freeze, the fabric suddenly heavy, and Jo chuckles at my silence. "I say go for it."
"What?" I shoot back, avoiding a response. "You literally just shit-talked the whole situation."
I hear her laptop slap shut, then ruffling that tells me she's curling up with her favorite tan-and-white-checkered fuzzy blanket, sinking into her couch. "I didn't say it's whatI'ddo. But you deserve to have some fun, Tessie."
I plop down on the bed in Liam's guestroom—my bedroom?—and drop the shirt into my lap. I stare at it like it might calm my nerves or give me answers.
Fun.
That might be what I deserve, but all I feel is a mess of butterflies in my stomach swirling around the one glimmer of guilty hope I'm holding onto. Hope that what happened in his kitchen—and the hotel room—won't upend everything we've started here. And hope that trying to resist doing it again won't crush me completely.
Jo groans.
