Page 112 of Best Friends for Never

They all fall, and she turns, throwing her arms into the air.

“I won! I won!” she chants as she races forward and launches herself at me.

I catch her easily, wrapping my arms around her waist desperately like I didn’t just see her a few hours ago.

She grins up at me. “You made it.”

I wince. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was reading.”

“Reading?” She gasps. “Were you reading romance novels? Because I read those sometimes. The kissing ones are my favorite.”

“Just kissing?”

“Oh no. I like it when they bang too. That’s really my favorite part.”

I laugh. Oh yeah, she’s definitely tipsy already. “Good to know. Though I am sorry to burst your bubble, it wasn’t a romance novel. It was a script.”

“Apparently, it’s a good one too. He forgot to wake me up,” Gran complains, sipping her drink.

“Ah, right.” Parker nods. “Sometimes I forget you’re a movie star.”

Sometimes I forget, too, especially lately. Being back in your hometown will do that, I guess. Nothing humbles you more than the people who knew you before.

I won’t lie, a part of me has missed it. I’ve missed beingjust Noel, which is how everyone here treats me—like I’m the same kid they’ve known since I was a toddler. While I miss LA and my friends, it’s a nice break to turn off the movie star side of me and be regular Noel again.

“You’re still just the boy I fell in love with.”

My heart thunders in my chest.

“Is that right?” I ask her, tugging her closer.

Her grin stretches wider. “That’s right.”

“How many drinks have you had?”

“Just the one. Plus one more. So that’s two. But now that you’ve brought me one, it’ll be three.”

“That’s some good math. Mrs. Kohlson would be proud.”

“She’s here. I should go tell her. Then maybe shake her down for a few bucks for the event.” She pulls away to do just that, but I stop her, dragging her back to me.

“How about we get you a water, then we’ll go shake down our sixth-grade math teacher?”

“Fine.” She huffs. “But you have to bowl with me too.”

“I think I can arrange that.”

By the night’s end, we’ve officially put a $35,000 dent in the renovation fund, and Parker is drunk.

She had a glass of water, beat me at bowling,andsnuck two more whiskey sours.

After all the work she’s been putting in, she deserves to let loose. Even if it does mean I have to piggyback her into her house.

“You know, you should really lock your door,” I tell her as I step inside without a key.

“Why? Are you planning on breaking in?” she counters.

I laugh at her absurdity, then move to drop her onto the couch.

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