AllFreeNovel
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“I got it,” he says again like it’s nothing. Yet, he hasn’t taken a seat. He’s standing and looking around the room, giving a great deal of attention to a copper lamp and then Ripley’s Hot Wheels race.
“We aren’t together though,” I say so quietly, I doubt he hears. But then his gaze meets mine, and by his saddened expression alone, I’m certain he has heard.
“It’s just…it’s something I’m doing for a friend,” he rationalizes. “I bought your ticket. I also got your bodyguard’s ticket and an extra.”
I freeze. “An extra?”
“Just in case someone else wants to go.”
Oh.“Like Joana?” I throw out there, regrettably.
His face twists in hurt. “I’m not inviting my best friend’s little sister. I’m not invitinganyother girl.” He pauses. “Except Frog, but she has to go if you go.”
“Who’s the extra for then?” I wonder.
“Whoever you want to bring, bring ‘em,” Donnelly says earnestly. “I just thought it’d be better if more people go with us.”
Easier.
A group setting.It’s where our friendship started and lingeredforever.We weren’t “share alone time together” kinda friends, because feelingsdidexist and Donnelly didn’t want to mix signals when he couldn’t act on them. Now, I’m reading this signal pretty well.
Just friends.
Only friends.
“You bought the extra,” I say. “You should give it to someone. It doesn’t feel right me giving it away.”
“Think of it as an early birthday present,” he says. “It’s yours.” He’s giving me way more control over our trip by leaving the extra ticket up to me. I can choose one of my friends instead of his.
I nod, “Yeah, okay.”
He brushes another hand through his hair. “I don’t wanna tell you who to bring, but if you bring a date—”
“I wouldn’t,” I cut in fast.
He exhales.
“Lookie! Lookie!” Ripley rushes over to Donnelly, trying to show him a red Hot Wheels truck.
“Watcha got there?” Donnelly crouches to the baby, but he’s casting a deeper glance back at me. Seeing him interact with a baby is adorable, but more than that,thisbaby has Donnelly’s eyes—they look so much more alike than I realized.
Ripley’s cheeks redden, timid all of a sudden. “My truck.” He grows more reserved at times and definitely when more people are around. It’s not just Donnelly.
“Your truck? You candrive?”
Ripley nods.
Donnelly whistles. “Look at you. You’re alreadywaycooler than your papa. You tell him Uncle Donnelly said so, yeah?”
Ripley nods a ton, actingveryserious.
He’s good around babies. A fact I’ve known for a while after he made Ripley break into a giggling fit. At dinner one night, he did a magic trick with a disappearing grape. When Donnelly popped it out of his nose, Ripley doubled over giggling in his highchair.
“You like kids?” I wonder.
“When they’re not crying.” Donnelly stands up while Ripley returns the truck to his bucket. “Baby cries are a nail gun to the heart though. I hate ‘em.”
“Me too,” I say just as Charlie Cobalt struts into our convo.
