“Were you even paying attention?”
“For the first ten minutes of reviews, I was.”
“Dakota, what the hell? You’ve been drifting off all freaking day. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she says, her cheeks reddening.
“Uh . . . I don’t buy it.”
I look over at the coffee counter and notice a familiar box. My head snaps back to her. “Oh my God, you went to the bakeshop again.”
“You were out of shortbread.”
“Because I have no ability to control myself, which means you need to be the one cutting me off, not feeding into the madness.”
“I’m a good friend.”
“No, you’re using me as an excuse to go see Isla.”
She grins. “Maybe.”
I push the computer away and fold my arms over my chest. “Okay, tell me what happened.”
“Well, she said hi.”
“Oh yes, wow. Be still my heart, a greeting,” I deadpan. Dakota flicks her pen at me in response.
Chuckling, I say, “What else happened?”
“We talked a little about the weather, simple things, and then, when I was leaving, she asked what I was doing Friday night.”
“What?” I sit up. “Uh, this is something you should have told me the minute I walked into the coffee shop. She asked you out?”
“You were all hyped up on the research you conducted—I was letting you have your moment.”
“Moment had, now tell me about yours.”
She’s smiling so hard that my cheeks actually hurt for her. “Well, it might be a little lame, but I consider it a step in the right direction. She asked what I was doing Friday, and when I said nothing, she said I should bring you and meet up at the pub, to hang out and have some drinks.”
“Ohhh, she did ask you out.”
“And you,” Dakota says, a little defeated.
“I’m just a buffer for you. She did that to be nice.”
“Maybe. So . . . will you go?”
“Of course. I’m one hell of a wing-woman. I got you—boo.” I wink. “God, how exciting.”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
I give her a side-eye. “You should already know I’m going to make it a thing.”
“I’m asking you, please . . . don’t make it a thing.”
“But I love making it a thing.”
“Please, Bonnie.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “This is painful.”
“Bonnie . . .”
“Fine.” I lean back in my chair. “I won’t make it a thing.”
“Thank you. So, about the reviews—”
“Oh my God, you’re going on a date.” I clap my hands excitedly.
Dakota puts her head in her hand. “You’re making it a thing . . .”
CHAPTER TEN
ROWAN
Curly Wurlys consumed: Seven.
Curly Wurlys left in stash: One.
Awkward, unexpected kisses: One.
Missed opportunity to kiss back: One.
A certain blonde has pushed me to blowing through my stash quicker than I care for, and I’m not fucking happy about it. And she’s made me consider why I didn’t kiss her back. Maybe because she drives me insane? Maybe because I have no idea how I really feel about her? Maybe because I’m out of my mind with my parents, her, the changes that are happening at a rapid pace.
Can’t blame a guy, right?
“Rowan, are you there? It’s your mother.”
“Yes, Maw. I know. I can see that from the caller ID.”
“Well, I can barely hear you!” she yells into the phone.
“Because you don’t have the phone on speaker,” I hear my da say.
“I pressed the button.”
“You didn’t press the button. It’s not lit up.”
“How do you know it has to be lit up?” Maw asks.
“That’s how the phone works. Press the button.”
“I did.”
“You clearly didn’t.”
“Jesus Christ, just someone press the button!” I shout.
“Fine, I’ll press the button again—oh look, it’s lit up.”
“I told you, you bawbag,” Da says, making me chuckle.
“You watch your tone, Stuart,” Maw snaps. “Or I won’t fetch you that cola like you asked.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles.
Da and his cola.
“Rowan, are you there?”
“Yes, I’m still here,” I answer while kicking my feet up on my coffee table.