This plot gets ever trickier to balance.
Good thing I’m not one to turn down a challenge.
Tracing a sun sticker with my fingertip, I lose myself in a fantasy of what might be possible until Grandma Beth’s voice jerks me back to reality. “I think we’re forgetting that Ali’s still not blond.”
“That’syour biggest concern?” Lynn tosses a hand in the air. “Nothow we’re going to orchestrate a forced proximity, enemies-to-lovers with a girl likeAugustwhen the man is already utterly gone for her?”
“Remind me,” Leeann muses, “does her list havehe falls first?”
I scan the list. “No.”
“Hm. Must be an oversight.”
“Or,” Lynn huffs, “she has yet another questionable taste.”
Leeann crosses her arms. “I didn’t hearshe falls firstin the list, either. She must have forgotten to includehe falls first. My granddaughter may inexplicably want a blond lead, but she’s not a complete idiot.”
She’s not an idiot at all, actually.
She’s funny and smart and…special. Something about her is unique to her.
And I can’t stop thinking about living in a world where I might wake up every single day to witness the magic she wields so effortlessly.
If not being blond is the main thing standing between me and my dreams of being with her, I’ll become blond. It’s just a matter ofhow. I tug on a strand of my hair and look at the dark shade. Dyeing it is an option. Considering it’s summer and she’s got a slew of summer tropes included here, a wig could be risky, but I’m not sure I should burn my hair to smithereens with bleach to get it light enough for dye. Since I plan to be here for a while and my natural color is starkly opposite what she wants, I’d need to burn and dye constantly, because the second my roots show, I’d be done for. I’m just not sure it’s a good idea to ruin my natural hair like that when, ideally, she’ll come to her senses eventually.
Wig it is. I’ll order one as soon as I’m back in Grandma Beth’s guest room with my laptop.
“So it’s settled, then?” Leeann asks, breaking through my thoughts.
I missed what was settled, so I drop the strand of my hair and look at the women.
They stare at me, not at all concerningly, even if all their canines are on display and my own sweet grandmother’s eyes are bright with disturbing levels of mischief.
Like an anime lead, I murmur, “Yare yare,” and cut my hand back through my offending dark locks. “What’s the plan?”
Theplan, as it turns out, is quite simple.
Step one: become blond.
Step two: make my unsuspecting virtual assistant fall madly in love with me.
Step three?
Hm.
I wonder.
If I had to guess according to stories like these, though, I’d say step three islive happily ever after.
The end.
Chapter 1
?
My grandmother is trying to get me killed.
August
