“I used to think they were a waste of time, but now I find them refreshing.”
My God.Cucumbers.Bridget would be appalled.
“Good to know.” His smirk inches up, and he lets out a small laugh. “You’re really something, Wynne. You know that?”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think there was some affection in his voice.
Warm pleasure blooms in my chest. Or maybe it’s determination, because before I can think twice, I sit up and pull my sweatshirt off, smoothing a hand over my bare shoulder.
Never has so much hinged on choosing the right tank top.
And when I turn, it’s clear: We definitely did.
I catch Penn in a sidelong glance while adjusting my strap, and his gaze lands exactly where I hoped it would. Then his eyes meet mine, and he looks away, pulling his phone from his pocket. A notification lights up the screen, and he clears it.
I lie back down, pleased with myself. “Is that your secret girlfriend again?”
Penn turns. His face is so close, he only has to whisper. “Why? You jealous?”
It’s the kind of line he’s dropped a million times, but on a dark and starry night, lying close enough to smell his citrusy soap, the moment feels different. Charged.
I whisper back, “Why? Do you want me to be?”
Penn’s eyes spark in surprise, and maybe I’m seeing what I want to see, but I’m sure of it: He wants me to be jealous. Just thethought emboldens me, and when I shift closer, our eyes lock, and I can hear his sharp inhale.
My heart sprints in anticipation.This is it. He’s going to kiss me.
I’m petrified and hopeful as I hold Penn’s gaze, daring him.
But then he turns and faces the sky, staring up at the stars, and my stomach drops.
He sits up quickly, strangely out of breath as he pulls out his phone again. “I need to take this call,” he says gruffly, still avoiding my eyes. Then he stands and leaves, tugging the back of his neck as he heads inside.
It’s a terrible excuse. We both know his phone didn’t ring.
He had a chance. And he didn’t take it.
9
A Bit Much
“Are you sureyou’re okay?” Ryan asks.
It’s the fourth time he’s asked the question in the last hour. We stand at the end of my driveway, waiting for his Uber, and I’m not sure who looks more ridiculous—me, in my iridescent Disco Diner uniform, or Ryan in the orange tracksuit he’s wearing for his travel day. Apparently, he’s off to Italy to visit an old coworker from another restaurant, and not a single part of that sentence registers as anything other than unfathomable. My brother’s hardly left the Midwest, let alone the country.
“I’m fine,” I insist, also for the fourth time.
Ryan pokes at my side. “Haven’t you learned you can’t lie to me by now?”
I sigh, defeated, because a lot of twin clichés aren’t true, but we really can sense each other’s feelings like a force field. Right now he’s probably picking up on the bone-deep humiliation that’s filled my limbs since Penn’s hasty departure last night. I honestly thought he was going to kiss me, but he couldn’t escape the yard fast enough. My attraction barometer is busted. Not only wasthere no kiss, but for the first time all week, there were no Morse code messages knocked along our shared wall, either.
I pushed too far, too quickly. I freaked Penn out.
“I’m just going to miss you, is all,” I tell Ryan, and at least it’s not a lie.
He pulls me into a side hug. “Any souvenir requests? Otherwise, you’re getting the tackiest magnet I can find, and I’ll expect you to keep it on your fancy-ass fridge.”
I laugh and tilt up my head to find him grinning. I want to tell him to be careful. To call me if he needs me. “No special requests,” I say instead. “Just—”
