Page 25 of What I'm Looking For

“But?—”

“I guarantee if you’d employed that charming accent of yours more and badgered him less, you’d be joining us.”

Even though I know he’s probably right, I’m going to need acting lessons from Will to get to the point where I can convincingly sweet-talk a pig like Polk.

As my grandma always said, you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.

I’m just starting to wonder if I really want to be catching flies for a living.

Chapter8

BEEP. Saturday, 7:03 a.m.

Alice, I’m on my way. Get your running shoes on.

KATE

Alice Kim, my best friend since freshman year of college, dashes in front of me to turn up her TV before jogging back to her room. “Oh my god, have you seen this? It’s so funny!”

Bending my left knee, I grab my foot and pull it toward my butt to stretch my quads, waiting as usual for perfectly-put-together-even-when-she’s-just-going-running Alice to finish getting ready. I love the girl, but it takes forever to get her out the door. “Alice, can we go already? I have to work today, so I need to run before I get too hungry and?—”

Something on the screen catches my eye. “What the?—” Turning so fast I lose my balance, I hit the floor with a grunt. “Ow. Shit.”

Alice returns with her shoes. “Haven’t you seen this? It’s on constantly. I love this guy!”

Will is chasing a coffee cup.On the TV.“Alice! It’s Will! That guy I told you about. The one I met at the bar and had coffee with.”

Alice swivels back and forth between me and the little 2-D version of Will. “Not even.”

“Even.” I point at the TV. “The bartender-actor who saved me from the juggling guy!”

Alice plops on the floor next to me and bumps my shoulder. “You didn’t tell me he was so hot. And funny. Why are you not dating him?”

“Because.” I sigh. “He didn’t call me again. And it’s been almost two weeks.”

She pokes me with a perfectly manicured nail. “Did you bug out before he had a chance to ask you out again?”

“No, I didn’t. He did.” I set her abandoned shoes by her feet. “Can you get ready already?”

Ignoring the shoes, she wiggles closer to me, her vowels lengthening. “But you like him.” Born in Korea but raised in Georgia, her accent always deepens when she gets insistent.

“Well, kind of. But can we talk about this while we’re running? After we get going. No talking until we set the pace.”

She shoves her feet in her shoes. “I’m not letting you off the hook.” She jogs back to her room, laces trailing. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Will’s been replaced by a Sofa with a Secret commercial, so I turn off the TV and grab my right foot to stretch the other quad. Sometimes I wish I were more like Alice, who can charm anybody into anything and who dates all the time and makes it all seems so easy. I bend toward my toes and groan in frustration.

Alice reappears and pushes me hard enough that I have to grab the couch to right myself. “Moaning already? He’s fine, but notthatfine.”

“Ha ha.”

She holds up a sweatshirt with a questioning look on her face. I shake my head, and she throws it on the couch. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, but sex feels good.”

“Running feels good.”

“Uh, huh. Let’s bounce already.” She grabs her keys and follows me outside, where bright sunshine welcomes us. The day’s going to heat up quickly. That’s the thing about Boston. One minute it’s snowing, and the next it’s hot and sticky.

Alice jogs down the sidewalk toward the river. We both live in Cambridge, and the path along the Charles is our go-to running route. I run by myself most days, but we try to get out together on weekend mornings. Between my work schedule and Alice’s busy social life, it’s often the only time we can catch up.

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