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From the Jump(97)

Author:Lacie Waldon

“Right?” She exhales a relieved laugh and squeezes my hand. “I kept wanting to chuck a bread roll from the basket, just to see if he’d run and fetch it.”

* * *

Like last week, Studio Sounds is teeming with bodies. Unlike last week, Deiss is upstairs, mingling with the concertgoers. I spot him the moment I walk in, despite the throng of people between us. He’s leaning against a wall, his head tilted back as he listens to someone in the group around him. In a crowd of restless energy, his stillness stands out. Anyone walking in would know immediately this is his store. Or they’d assume he’s the guy they came to see onstage. I can’t take my eyes off him.

We push our way inside, and Phoebe squeals when Mac appears from nowhere and lifts her off the ground. Deiss looks up, and his smile flashes white against the darkness of his stubble. I grin back, my stomach fluttering.

“Isn’t that sweet,” Simone says from behind me.

My back tightens, and I turn slowly to face her. It’s a bizarre reaction given she’s one of my oldest, dearest friends.

“Hi, Simone,” I say, attempting to move past it. I can’t let this come between us. Even if I have broken the pact, I still believe in the motivation behind it.

“I assume that’s still going on then?” She gestures toward Deiss, and I nod. “A whole week. It must be love.”

“Practically soul mates.” I match her sardonic tone, but my cheeks heat at the sentiment, betraying me.

“Oh, Liv.” The anger seeps from her face, and for a moment, she looks like the Simone I’ve always known. When she speaks again, her voice is pitying. “Please don’t do this to yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything,” I say unconvincingly. “It was a joke.”

“You have another week.” She doesn’t say it meanly. Her hand reaches for my arm consolingly. “Two, tops. You’ve known him for as long as I have. You must have noticed the pattern.”

“My aunt has a shark pattern for cross-stitch.” Mac turns around, spinning Phoebe with him. He shuffles closer, pushing Phoebe forward, his arms wrapped around her waist. “She’s going to put it on a pillow and give it to me for Christmas.”

“Like a throw pillow?” I ask, grateful for the interruption.

“I guess,” Mac says. “She just said pillow.”

“You know you can’t have cross-stitched decor in your apartment, right?” Phoebe twists to look up at him. “Girls are going to assume you live with your grandmother and run for the door.”

“Sharks are the best,” Mac says, looking flummoxed. “You like them, right? You said you did when we were looking for them in Africa.”

Phoebe’s eyes soften. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“Then who cares if it looks like I live with my grandma,” Mac says. “We’ll be happy to have it when we’re watching TV. You always say my chest is too hard to lie on.”

Phoebe grins softly, and I feel the urge to hug Mac. I’ve known him for so long that it’s easy to pretend he’s the same guy I met back in school. He’s not, though. He’s changing, just like the rest of us. The guy he used to be was reckless and only thought about himself. For all his flaws, those things aren’t true anymore. There’s nobody Mac thinks about more than Phoebe.

Behind him, Deiss is approaching, flashing enigmatic smiles at the people who try to trap him in conversation.

“Am I missing a group meeting?” he asks, slapping Mac on the back. “You know you’re allowed to talk to other people than each other, right?”

“But-ola they-ola won’t-ola be-ola able-ola to-ola understand-ola us-ola,” Phoebe says.

Deiss shakes his head. “I told Mia not to allow any children in.”

“We-ola snuck-ola in-ola the-ola back-ola,” I say.

“You, too? I expected better.” Deiss tsks, but a grin tugs at his mouth as he moves around them to stand by me. The backs of our hands brush against each other, sending little waves of warmth caressing my skin.

“Good turnout,” I say, wishing I could kiss him. I’ve always considered PDA tacky, but now I can’t remember why I ever cared. I like it when I’m working at the counter and he comes over and tilts my chin up to brush his lips against mine. It never feels ostentatious, just sweet.

“You outdid yourself on the flyer,” he says. “The band asked about it as soon as they came in. I’m sure they’d love to meet you.”

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