Page 43 of Best Friends for Never

“The ceremony will be quick,” she says coolly, as if she wasn’t just checking out my forearms. “A short speech from our mayor, Todd—”

“I know who Todd is, Parker. He used to babysit us, and we duct-taped him to a rocking chair once.”

Her lips twitch with a hint of a smile. “Right. We did do that.” She clears her throat. “Anyway, after that, I’ll say a few words, then you’ll go.”

“You promise nobody is expecting anything epic?”

“I promise. They’ll all be chomping at the bit for the closing Q&A session.”

“You’re doing a Q&A? With theGazettehere?”

She sighs. “Unfortunately. They were very pushy, and Todd wanted it, too, so what can I do?” She shrugs. “You ready?”

“We’re going on now?”

“The ground isn’t going to break itself. Which comes after your speech, by the way.”

“Why are we breaking the ground again? Isn’t it just a renovation?”

Parker shrugs again. “With some extensive work that needs to be done, yes. But Todd wouldn’t let up on the idea. He said it would be ‘more engaging,’ whatever the heck that means. So we’re doing it because I want my theater.”

“Fine. Do I at least get to wear a hard hat?”

She looks up at my head, squinting as if she’s weighing her options when we both know she’s not. “You’ll be fine.”

“Wow. Just going to risk my safety like that, huh?”

“You’re sticking a shovel into the ground. If you really want a hard hat, I’ll have Axel grab you one.”

I gnash my teeth together at the mention of the big oaf. “I’ll live.”

She gives me a deceptively sweet smile. “Good. Now, come on. Let’s make this theater happen.”

I follow her to the chairs behind the podium and wait for her to sit before taking the spot next to her. They’re pushed tightly together, or at least that’s my excuse for letting my leg rest against hers. Her touch iswarm and familiar and so distracting that I completely miss the mayor walking to the podium and startle when he begins his speech.

“Thank you for coming today,” Todd says. “We’re excited to begin constructing the new Noel Carter Theater.”

The crowd gives a polite round of applause, and Todd himself looks back to give me that enthusiastic thumbs-up only politicians can give.

I nod toward the crowd, but what I really want is to slink down in my chair and hide.

“You look like you’re about to run away,” Parker whispers as the mayor continues droning on. She leaned in, so close I can smell the peppermint coming from her ChapStick. “Don’t run away.”

“I’m not going to run away,” I say as quietly.

“Good. Because you promised you’d do this.”

“I know that. Unlike some people, I keep my promises.”

It’s a low blow—the lowest of lows. And I want to take the words back instantly, especially when Parker jerks back, her eyes full of hurt.

She turns her attention back to the mayor just in time for her to be announced.

“Everyone, please give a warm welcome to the restoration committee lead, the Noel Carter Theater project manager,andone half of Cooke & Pruitt Renovations, our very own Parker Pruitt!”

The crowd erupts into applause, much louder and longer than the one for my name, as she takes center stage and steps up to the microphone.

Unless someone is looking closely, they’ll miss the shake of her hands, but I don’t. I see it. She’s upset, and it’s all my fault.

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