Page 40 of Lost Love on 6th Street

“You do! You do, you do, you do!” She grabs my shoulders and shakes me with each word.

“I do!” I exclaim.

She pulls me into a hug. “You have a cruuuuuushhhh!”

I could argue that calling it that sounds childish. Except it feels so good to celebrate the excitement of feeling something like I would back in middle school. Why do we lose the freedom to celebrate? To be candidly childish?

“Yeah, okay, I do,” I say, unable to keep from smiling. “I just don’t know if he feels the same.”

Jolene nudges my phone toward me. “Have you told him?”

My eyes widen. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Oh my god, don’t be a coward. Guys love it when you’re forward.”

I pick up my phone. The screen brightens again, reminding me of the unopened text from Luke. “I’ve never told a guy I was interested in him.”

“Well, what a perfect time to start! Luke is a beautiful specimen. Might as well shoot your shot. Something tells me, based on everything I know you’re probably not alone in it.”

“Okay, I’ll call him after—”

“You’ll call him now. I insist. As your boss,” she says with a wicked smile.

I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

I nod. “I do.” And I mean it. It’s much easier to admit to adoring someone as a friend in a short time than as a potential romantic partner. Maybe that’s my problem. I’m treating the two as entirely separate when the fact of the matter is, romance is just an upgrade of friendship, an upgrade you only get once in a blue moon. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it,” I say, not believing my own gumption.

“Atta girl!”

“Will you stay?” I ask her. “I think I’ll back out if I’m left alone.”

Jolene presses a hand to her chest. “It would be my honor.”

I smile and open the phone to our text message chain.

Luke’s message picks up where we left off last night.

Remind me to never accept a challenge from a drummer when tequila is involved. I’m a dead man walking.

I smile to myself, then press on the bubble of his name at the top of the screen to navigate to his phone number. My thumb hovers over the number. “You’re going to have to push my thumb down, I think,” I say as nerves influx through my body.

Jolene is more than happy to oblige. She also pulls the phone up to my ear. “It’s going to be fine,” she says, rubbing my arm. “He likes you. Worst he can do is—”

“Say no!” I hiss.

The phone rings a couple times. And then—

“I swear, I’m not actually a dead man walking,” Luke answers. “I’m just hungover as all hell.”

“Oh good. I was worried these were your last moments,” I say, flicking my gaze to Jolene.

She gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up.

“Tell my mother I love her,” he says.

My mouth gets hot. “Of course. I better get your hat though.”

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