Page 59 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

It took everything I had not to laugh.

George paused, seemingly realizing what he’d said too late. His hand dropped back to his lap. “Oh, fuck off.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” He smacked my shoulder, harder than necessary. “Stop looking so pleased.” I pressed my lips together so I wouldn’t outright grin.

“I’m not pleased,” I countered, “I’m—I mean. I’d askwhyyou named him that, but I already know the answer.”

“I’ll tell my mom to let Missy know she can reach me through her phone,” George ignored me. “That way I won’t have to see his texts, and I can still be reached.”

“Mhm, good plan.” Mr. Pickles, Mr. Pickles, Mr.—

“I will strangle you,” George warned. I doubted his bitty little fingers were strong enough to cut off my air supply.

“Okay, okay.” I backed off, turning my face away from him, feigning like I was checking the mirrors when in reality I was hiding my grin. “No moresmiling or good humor. None.”

“Thank god.”

“One miserable Alex coming right up.”

“That would be preferable.”

We pulled out of the parking lot, and it wasn’t until we’d hit the open road that I lost the battle with my laughter. Only, despite George claiming he hated being laughed at, he was the one that looked pleased. There was a smile on his lips, a private one, aimed out the window at the rolling fields of corn and the endless blue sky, not at me.

But it was my smile regardless.

Which was why it wasn’t fair.

Wasn’t fair at all—as I toted him around on the rest of my last-minute errands before we headed to the camp—that he hadn’t said yes to being my practice boyfriend. Because after one day I already knew I’d do anything to see that smile again.

“So…” Now it was my turn to push, apparently. “Why is your sister hell-bent on setting us up?”

We were on the way out of Columbus, having finished all our errands in record time. When Alex wasn’t pushing, poking, or playing ice-prince he was surprisingly good company. And it was…oddly attractive to see him in his element, arranging, talking, and charming the vendors we visited into giving him what he wanted.

“You’re one to talk. Joe’s nearly as much of an instigator as she is,” Alex interrupted my thoughts with a laugh.

“And my mom.”

“Too true.” Alex shook his head, amused. “Honestly? I think June thinks we’d be good together, as naive and silly as that sounds.” Thus far, we’d avoided the topic of Brendon. Not since the Picstogram post—which I was resolutely refusing to think about.

“June doesn’t even know me.” I frowned. “How could she possibly know that? It makes no sense. Shouldn’t she be…I don’t know…jealous or something? Most people would be pissed an ex was invited to their wedding—not trying to set him up with their brother.”

“June and Roderick are very odd people,” Alex admitted fondly. “I don’t think either of them have a jealous bone in their body.”

That…made sense.

When we’d dated, Roderick had been nothing but smiles. Sometimes I’d wondered if he had the capacity to feel anything but happiness. He never raised his voice, never got mad, never jealous. It was that lack of passion that made us so fundamentally incompatible.

Unlike Alex. Alex, who had big hands, and a big temper, and became pissed off on my behalf—despite the fact he had no reason to be protective of me at all.

Alex, who wanted tospoilpeople.

Alex, who was apparently…kind of sweet—even if he was still frustrating.

“It’s too bad I’ve sworn off men entirely. Otherwise having this many matchmakers would be useful,” I sighed, gazing out the window as we passed by even more cornfields. I swear to god I’d seen enough over the last two days I was drowning in them. Because Alex hadn’t pushed, and he’d already seen more of the way Brendon treated me than anyone else, it felt natural to open up.

“Brendon was…” It was challenging to sum him up in a single word. And even now, a year after I’d broken it off, it was difficult to speak about him. Like I was being disloyal. Like I expected punishment for the infraction. “Brendon is…hard.”

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