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Bronte plunkedher head back on the headrest. She was stalled on I-78, stuck between a pickup truck with a slobbering dog hanging out of the passenger window staring at her and two young guys on her right side, who would randomly shout insults at the yet-to-be-seen accident clogging up the interstate.
Her cell phone buzzed with a text message alert, and she picked it up from the cupholder, smiling when the picture of Luke popped up. And then another with a text reading, This one is my favorite. Caleb had his arms around both of his brothers, Luke was staring off into space, and Matty had a huge grin plastered across his face while he poked one finger in the cake.
She didn’t recognize the number but knew it was Chris, and her stomach gave in to a somersault. With her car parked for the foreseeable future, she typed out a message. I think I’ll frame it.
Texting & driving? Rule-breaker.
Bronte was on her way to see her boyfriend, not exactly the best time to send a flirtatious text back to another man. Never. I’m not the rule-breaking kind. I’m stuck in traffic.
Well then, something to keep you busy. A few more pictures showed up.
Thanks, she typed before setting her phone back down.
After about half an hour into the standstill, she sent her friends the SOS message to FaceTime. If she was going to live on this highway now, she at least needed some company. Bronte and Laney were originally from Pennsylvania and had met Gem and Sam at the University of Pittsburgh, but now they were all spread to the four corners of the country. They kept in touch daily with texts and occasional group FaceTimes.
Within a minute, their faces all appeared on Bronte’s screen.
“What’s up, buttercup?” Laney asked, her golden hair in its naturally curly state.
“I’m stuck in traffic and bored.”
“You’re going to see Hunter?” Sam asked, and from the AirPods and blue sky behind her, Bronte assumed she was out for a walk.
“Yeah.”
“So, everything’s all right?” Laney asked.
“Mm-hmm. Yep. All good.”
Gem kept her gaze on Willow as she wiped her baby’s face with a cloth, deadpanning, “That didn’t sound suspicious at all.”
Sam snickered. “What’s the problem?”
After a moment of gathering her courage, Bronte asked, “It’s normal to be attracted to other people when you’re in a relationship, right?”
Sam paused her movement, her face completely still as Gem stared straight at her camera, her eyes narrowed. Laney lifted her head. “Attracted?”
Bronte swallowed thickly. “Yeah, that’s normal, right? Tell me that’s normal.”
“It’s, uh…” Gem repositioned Willow to her shoulder. “I mean, I think other guys besides Jason are cute, so yeah.”
“What do you mean by attracted?” Sam asked. “Like, I think Chris Evans is hot—or, like, I want to find Chris Evans and fuck him?”
Bronte rolled her eyes. She should have kept her mouth shut.
“What happened?” Laney asked, peering into her screen and thus into Bronte’s soul, until she told her best friends the whole sordid tale, from meeting Chris on the plane to him singing with Luke mere hours ago.
Normally the one to get right down to it and not mince words, all Gem said was, “Oh,” when Bronte finished her story.
“Tell me this is normal,” Bronte said again. “To get butterflies from another person. They’ll go away, right?”
Laney took the lead. “I think it comes down to who you want to be with. The butterflies may or may not go away, but if you’re truly interested in this plane guy, then you shouldn’t stay in a relationship you’re not happy with.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, the longer you wait, the harder it’ll be.”
Finally, Gem piped up as Jason appeared behind her to take the baby. “I would take it as a bad sign if you’re fantasizing about someone else.” Jason’s face blanched behind Gem, and he pivoted away with a comically big step. Bronte would’ve laughed if she didn’t want to cry when her friend continued, “If you’re seriously attracted to—like, getting hot about someone else—I think that means it’s time to have a conversation about breaking up with Hunter.” She seemed excited by the prospect. “Are you fantasizing about plane guy?”
Traffic started moving, a perfect excuse to hang up. “Highway must be cleared. I gotta get driving. I’ll text you guys later.”
