Page 103 of The Comeback Summer

“Like the machine inThe Princess Bride?”

“Exactly.”

Josh sets aside his crocheting, turns off the lecture, and lies next to me. “You know you don’t have to be responsible for all of it. For managing all the finances by yourself.”

I huff. “Right, like Libby could handle it. She can barely remember to pay her own credit card bill.”

In fact, I set a reminder in my calendar to double-check for her, ever since she forgot one month and had to pay an enormous fee.

“Still, you could talk to her about it,” Josh says.

“Talking won’t help. I’m the only one who knows the ins and outs of our budget, and that’s fine—”

“Doesn’t sound fine—”

“—but someone has to do it and that someone might as well be me.” I roll onto my side, facing him. It’s past five o’clock now, the time we usually say goodbye and each head to our respective homes. But as I let my eyes drift down his lean, strong body, I’m desperate to spend more time with him. Naked.

Those shoulders. Those thighs. I want to bite them.

“Horny eyes,” Josh says, grinning at me. “I mean, I get it. It’s been difficult to get alone time.”

Guilt shimmers through me; it was my fault we didn’t use the hotel reservation Josh made. Though the call with Serena and Preeti went well. They seemed to like my ideas about a mailing featuring clues about the book, as if it was a cold case, and they were impressed with the list of influencers Josh helped me gather. But the more days that pass without hearing from them, the more sure I am that they’re going with someone with more experience. Probably a good thing I didn’t tell Libby about it.

“You should come to my place,” I blurt out. “And you should stay over.”

His dark eyebrows lift. “Won’t Libby be there?”

“Yes, but...” I shrug. “She needs to get over it. You’re my boyfriend.”

His eyes light up. I haven’t used that word in front of him yet, though he’s called me his girlfriend a few times.

He grabs my hips and pulls me against him, making my skin flush with heat. “I’d love to.”

“And guess what? I have a box of your clothes from college that you can change into.”

He bursts out laughing. “How serial killer of you. What’s in it?”

“I don’t remember,” I say, but he makes a face that says,Sure ya don’t, and I sigh. “Your old Cubs hoodie, a pair of basketball shorts, and some T-shirts.”

After he went to Australia, I wore that hoodie almost every day and slept in the T-shirts until Libby threatened to burn them in a giant Josh-related funeral pyre. So I hid them.Libby probably has no idea they’re still buried in the back of my closet.

“I wondered where those went,” he muses. “What’ve you been doing with my clothes all these years? Freaky things, hopefully.”

My cheeks heat up, and he grins, delighted.

“Anyway,”I say, shaking my head. “Come over. I’ve been hoping for a redo on that shower. And this time, I want you to push me against the wall and have your way with me.”

•••

A HALF ANhour later, we burst through the door of my apartment, laughing. When I spot my sister in the kitchen, the laughter dies in my throat.

“Hi,” I say, trying to act casual. “What’s for dinner?”

Libby narrows her eyes. “I didn’t make enough for three.”

A blatant lie. Something’s bubbling in a saucepan; the air fryer is going, and there’s a huge salad on the counter. As is her custom, my sister has cooked enough to feed a dozen starving rugby players.

I fold my arms. “Oh, come on. You’ve made plenty—”

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