Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)(58)
My ears perk up. “I’m sorry—what petition?”
“You haven’t seen it? The town put together a petition to vote on your and Will’s relationship,” says Emily. “It’s actually way more extensive than the one they did for Paul and that woman he was dating for a while. This one has an entire facts list attached for why y’all aren’t well suited for a relationship.” Emily finally notices the dip and slides onto the stool beside me to dig in. I scoot the bowl a little closer to her.
“Wait, wait, wait. It’s a relationship now?” Maddie dives her hand through her hair. “My head is spinning. Are you telling me that you and Will are dating? You were too shy to talk to Hot Bank Teller, so you bypassed him and went straight for Sexy Bodyguard? I need all the details.”
My sisters stare at me expectantly. I know that this is the moment I should tell them the truth. I should burst out laughing and explain that Will is just my practice person. But for some reason, the words won’t come out. Because right now, my sisters are looking at me like I’m the opposite of boring. Like I’m maybe…fascinating. Like I’m not their sweet baby sister, and maybe there’s more to me than they realized.
And I’m not ready for that look to fade when I tell them I wasn’t too shy to talk to Hot Bank Teller, that he, in fact, thought I was too boring to date, so Will is just being kind and helping me.
And that’s why I lie.
“Yeah. It’s not a big deal,” I say, looking down to scoop another chip in an attempt at looking casual. “He came into the flower shop the other day, and we hit it off, and…now we’re…dating.” Oh gosh. What are you doing Annie? Will is never going to go for this. “It’s just casual, though. Could end any day really.”
“Casual?” Emily repeats with a quizzical frown.
“Uh-huh.”
“Annie,” Madison says, like she’s gently trying to tell me the people I’m seeing in the room aren’t really there. “You don’t do casual. You’re Monica in the episode of Friends where she reveals her wedding scrapbook. You and casual do not belong in the same sentence.”
“Well, we do now.” I tip a shoulder like it’s no big deal. But even I know that what I’m saying is a very big deal. It’s also untrue. I feel a tug of disappointment as I deny being true to myself, but I squash that feeling under my Converse sneakers because what has being true to myself gotten me besides blown off in the middle of a date?
My sisters look at each other—obviously freaked out by this deviation in character and uncertain how to continue.
“Huh,” Maddie says.
“So you and Will can…what? See other people?” asks Emily, testing me.
“Yep.”
“And you’re okay with that?”
I shrug. “Of course. The more the merrier!”
Nope. And I’m also a little worried at how the thought of Will (the man who is not my real boyfriend) dating anyone else sends a boiling surge of jealousy through my body.
Apparently, that was a bridge too far because Maddie and Emily share a look. One of the looks that always makes me feel so mad to be excluded from. The one that I can never understand the meaning of, but they seem to comprehend perfectly. How is it possible to share DNA with someone and still feel so “other” from them—and yet still love them with my whole heart? It’s too messy.
They turn to me and cross their arms—a habit we’ve all adopted from Noah for when we mean business. “All right. Fess up. What’s going on? Did you and Will actually sleep together last night?”
My shoulders slump. “Fine. He slept here, but nothing happened. In fact, I don’t think anything will ever happen between us.”
Madison melts dramatically to the floor, pretending to weep as she says, “Annie. You’re killing me. You’re literally murdering me slowly. Please start from the beginning!”
Ugh. Here we go. The truth.
“Okay, okay, okay. Amelia set the whole thing up. Will is my dating coach for a few weeks to help me practice because…” Because I went on a date and it was a disaster and I’m boring. Nope. Still can’t bring myself to tell them that part. They’ll laugh. Or they’ll make a joke about Angel Annie being too saintly for a bank teller. Or even worse, they won’t be surprised at all. “Because I’m ready to start dating seriously, but I’m nervous. He’s just helping me get over the nerves.” I don’t mention how dating lessons have melted into something else entirely, though. And I don’t tell them about the tattoo or how Will has offered to help with any other kind of practice I want because all of that feels too personal. As misguided as it might be, it feels like something special between me and Will, and I don’t want to include anyone else in it.
Emily frowns lightly—her ever-present mom mode trying to carefully dissect every possible obstacle I will have to overcome and then determine whether I’m emotionally strong enough to handle a situation like this.
Maddie leans her hip against the counter. “Please at least tell me it’s like a sexy dating-coach thing? Like y’all are going to practice having sex too?”
“No, it’s not a sexy dating-coach thing.” But when I’m confronted with memories of me and Will making out in my bed last night I realize that statement isn’t totally true. But it stops with kissing. No sex will be happening between me and Will because as I’m realizing in the light of day, that would only complicate whatever mission I’m on to find a husband or myself or…ugh, I don’t know. It just wouldn’t be good, okay?! I have to stop thinking about it.