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Annie
Friday afternoon, I take my work home—or, more exactly, I take it to Kayla’s.
“Why does it matter what you wear if you’re so sure this isn’t going to work?” My sister sits cross-legged on her bed while I raid her closet.
“Because. Because…” I say—yep, that’s me, the writer who has zero words.
“And why isn’t it going to work again?”
I huff and yank a yellow sweater from Kayla’s closet. “Because,” I say. Now that we’re clear as mud, can she please move on?
“And your plan is to prove that it won’t work and end things tonight?”
“Yes.” I give one enthusiastic nod. That is the plan. Quick and painless—like ripping off a band-aid.
“So, you’re going to purposely spoil the evening?”
“No. I won’t need to. Owen and I as besties works. Owen and I as a couple will flop. He’ll see. One date. That’s it.” I turn back to the closet, looking for that navy tube skirt I gave to Kayla last year for her birthday.
“And yet your kiss was…electric.”
I lick my lips. I’ve thought about this too. “It was a shock. That’s all.”
“I’d like to be shocked like that more often. If Tim tried to shock me with a kiss, he’d probably get distracted and trip over a foot-tall plastic T-Rex and bust his ankle.” She stares out, seeing nothing as if she’s imagining the whole scene. “No, we have to coordinate our kisses. Safe spaces.”
I smirk. “So romantic.”
She lifts one shoulder. “It is. Just a new kind of romance. One that involves little boys and plastic dinosaurs. Believe me, there is nothing more romantic than your husband doing the dishes or staying up all night with your sick child.” There’s a wistful look in her eyes before she blinks back to reality. “I still think you’re the one who is going to be shocked tonight.”
I lick my lips and plop myself onto the bed next to her. “Where’s your navy tube skirt?”
She gives an apologetic grin and hisses through her front teeth. “Steve cut it up to use as a backdrop for one of his Lego scenes.”
I gulp. “Cut it up?” That skirt was a Chen Go. It cost me a couple of Benjamin Franklins. I breathe out a sigh. “That’s okay. I’ll just stop at Target on my way home.”
“Sweetie. Forget the skirt. I want you to repeat these words: I, Annie Archer…”
Kayla waits, and so I do as she says—as silly as I may feel. “I, Annie Archer…”
“Am worthy,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “Am worthy.”
“To be loved.”
I swallow, her words tumbling to my gut like stones. “To be loved,” I speak just above a whisper. You should never give so much power to one person—and yet Maddox was so believable.Even Owen liked him. And apparently, Owen loved me way back then.
Besides, I’ve dated a lot of guys. A lot of nice, good human beings. I’ve never loved any of them. They never loved me.
The weird and strange thing is—I already know I love Owen. But I’ve always thought of that love as a buddy love.
Kayla’s still watching me, willing those words into my soul. She wraps one arm around my shoulders and leans her head next to mine. “Now you just need to believe it.”
Target is my hero. I pair a navy, knee-length pencil skirt from the store with Kayla’s center seam crew neck sweater. It’s a golden yellow and pairs so sweetly with the shoes Owen gave me.
I curl my straight hair into waves and add a hint of red to my already full, pink lips. No one can say I’m not trying. The fact that I tried is going to be the most proving thing of all when I convince Owen that this isn’t going to work and we need to go back to the perfect relationship of besties. The kind of relationship where no one’s heart gets broken.
I am ninety-nine percent ready when Owen rings the bell. He doesn’t just walk inside, and I think this must be a change with the title of our outing—DATE.
