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I look up into his face, only inches from my own, and his gaze is roving over my face, my messy bedhead, and my bare shoulder where my oversized t-shirt has slipped off. He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple go up and down in his thick throat. His lips part as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out, not even a whisper. I feel his breath across my face, and this moment is suddenly far too intimate for two friends. Twobest friends. I squirm in his arms again, desperate to get his hands off me and ease whatever this tension is.
For a second I thought he might…kiss me. But surely not.It’s Josiah.
He sets me down on my feet and walks to the door again. He rubs the back of his neck and looks back at me for a moment. The look on his face is strange. He looks conflicted or maybe confused. Well, that would make two of us.
“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I say. He doesn’t answer. He just nods his head once and closes the door behind him.
As soon as he has the door closed, I rush to my bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I’m pretty sure I forgot to brush them when I got home this morning. I was bone tired, so don’t judge. Gosh, could he smell me? I think I would die from mortification if he did. My hair is a mess, so I squeeze some curl cream into my spray bottle and give it a good shake before spritzing it all over my hair to rejuvenate and smooth out the waves. It’s a bit (a lot) frizzier than I’d like, but it’ll have to do since there’s no time to work on it.
I lean forward to inspect myself in the mirror. It’s an improvement, but I still look like a walking mummy. I dab concealer under my eyes, hoping it will hide the dark circles a little. Mascara and blush is next, and at least now I look alive…sort of.
After changing into appropriate clothes, I rush down the stairs, hoping I haven’t kept everyone waiting for too long. Josiah is standing at the bottom of the stairs right next to the door that leads to the kitchen. He sees me coming and holds a finger to his lips to gesture for me to be quiet. Curious, I stand next to him, and together, we listen to our moms talking as they put the final touches on our Sunday dinner.
“Is it wrong that I’m actually ecstatic they broke up?” my mom asks. I can’t believe it. They’re talking about me! What if I was completely crushed by this breakup? Would she be dancing around me while I cried into a handkerchief, bemoaning my spinsterhood? I’m her eldest daughter. We’ve been through so much together, especially as I’ve grown older, and she’s practically celebrating the death of my six-year relationship. I open my mouth and move forward to say something to defend myself, but Josiah grabs my arm and shakes his head, willing me to let the conversation continue. I settle in beside him to listen as they continue to gossip about me, but Josiah doesn’t let go of my arm.
“Psh. Absolutely not! The guy was a waste of her time.”
Not Aunt Carly too!
I can’t believe my ears. I mean, she’s right. I did waste an entire six years of my life on Brandon Marsh. But can’t they have a tiny morsel of pity for me and my supposed broken heart? And you know, not talk about me behind my back! I mean, I’m not actually broken-hearted now that the sun is shining on a new day and I’ve had more time to process my thoughts and feelings…but they don’t know that! Josiah must feel me vibrating with indignation, because I feel his silent laughter shaking his body behind me. This is most definitely not a laughing matter!
“Oh, I know. I tried to like him. I really did,” Mom says, pleading for Aunt Carly to understand. Gosh, she’s making it sound like she’s some kind of victim in this.
“I know you did.” Aunt Carly pats Mom’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. Where’s my comfort? Who’s trying to make me feel better?
Josiah lets go of me and bends over at his waist, resting his hands on his knees and trying to hold his laugh in. I smack his arm because this is not funny whatsoever! He takes some deep breaths and swipes a hand over his eyes to regain his composure.
“But it doesn’t matter anymore. And now we can put that old plan back into action,” Mom says in a conspiratorial voice. She sounds far too excited now, when just three seconds ago she was trying (unsuccessfully) to sound sad and forlorn. What plan could she be talking about? I glance up at Josiah, curious if he has any idea what they’re talking about, but he just shrugs his bulky shoulders. I turn back around to listen again.
“They’re just meant to be. Why don’t they see it?” Aunt Carly says. Who is this ‘they’ she’s speaking of? I’m assumingI’m included in this, because they were just discussing me and my failed relationship. I don’t really know many other guys. There’s Peter at work, but I’m pretty sure he’s in a long-term relationship. He’s not my type anyway. There’s Valerie’s brother, Logan, but he’s more like a big brother to me than anything else. He spent too much time listening to Valerie’s and my adolescent drama while driving us around in his car before either of us had a driver’s license to view me as anything else. The only other man I see on a regular basis is Josiah, but they couldn’t possibly be talking about him. There’s no way…right?
“Do you think we’ve made them too much like family to see each other in that light?” Mom asks, and there’s a long pause. She chews her bottom lip in contemplation.
“I don’t think so… Josiah has never said anything along those lines to me. I’ve always been under the impression that he would be open to the idea.”
Oh my gosh. I back up a step and crash back into Josiah’s solid chest. I freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do next. My ears are ringing, and my stomach lurches. I take one step forward and open my mouth again, preparing to storm into the kitchen and let our moms know exactly what I think about their little plan to coax Josiah and I into some sort of romantic relationship. But I don’t make it even an inch.
Josiah’s massive, rough hand clamps firmly over my mouth while his other arm goes around the front of my shoulders. He pulls me back into my place against his chest while he listens to the rest of their conversation. I, however, don’t want to hear any more of what they have to say. It’s all ridiculous. I could never, in a million years, date Josiah. He knows too much about me. I know too much about him. And it has the potential to completely ruin our relationship. Where would that leave our families then?
“Have you seen the way he looks at her?” Aunt Carly sighs as she dumps a bowl of cherry tomatoes into the salad. Josiah tenses up behind me while I go almost limp in his arms. The fight leaves my body in an instant, and suddenly, I can’t wait to hear what they say next. How does Josiah look at me? Is it like a brother? Like I’m the most annoying person in the world? Or is it something completely different, like the way he looked at me in the hospital break room the other night? The way he looked at me in my bedroom only fifteen minutes ago. Something I’m afraid to even name.
“Yes. I think that boy has been in?—”
Josiah drops his hands from my body and clears his throat loudly, cutting off anything else they would have said. He walks into the kitchen as if nothing is amiss and says, “Are y’all almost finished in here? We’re all ready now.” He gestures to the doorway, where I’m now standing. Our moms exchange a worried glance, surely wondering if we heard anything they said.
Yes, Mom. We heard it all. Every single bit of juicy gossip.
And I wish I could have heard more. It was just starting to get good. Why did Josiah have to go and ruin it? He must have thought his mom was about to reveal something that he’d rather keep a secret. I glance at him where he stands on the other side of the kitchen island. He looks totally composed, other than the fact that he’s trying to avoid looking at me. Something is going on in that pretty head of his, and I want to know what it is.
Aunt Carly gives me a hug in greeting and then places the salad bowl in my hands for me to carry out to the table where everyone else is waiting to eat. Josiah follows me out. The table is already covered in food. Mom made her homemade lasagna. It’s my favorite. Not authentic Italian but still delicious. I wishI could whisk it away and hoard it in the pantry. No one else needs it, right?
There are Aunt Carly’s famous homemade bread sticks, asparagus that my dad grilled to perfection, and of course the salad that I’m currently holding. I move forward to place it on the table.
“So nice of you all to join us,” Dad says as the four of us take our seats at the table.
“Isn’t it? Josiah and I found Mom and Aunt Carly gossiping in the kitchen,” I say while I scoop a massive pile of lasagna onto my plate. I refuse to look at them because I want to keep them guessing about whether or not Josiah and I heard their conversation. Just a little torture won’t hurt them too much. It’s mean, but I love to see them squirm. And squirm they do.
“We weren’t gossiping,” Mom says with a forced chuckle. I allow one quick glance at her, and oh yeah, she’s nervous.
