Page 60 of Maid of Dishonor

I grin. This right here is why she’s my best friend. No greeting, no intro. Just…taste buds. “I did not know that,” I say. “Tell me more.”

“Right, okay. So apparently it’s an air pressure thing. When you fly, the dryness and the low air pressure can make your taste buds less sensitive to salty and sweet flavors.”

“Huh,” I say. “Interesting. Yet another reason to avoid flying.”

I picture Sam rolling her eyes as she says, “Of all the things for you to be afraid of—”

“Hold up,” I say, cutting her off. “It’s not weird that I don’t want to be inside a giant hunk of metal hurtling through the atmosphere at ridiculous speeds.”

“You’re more likely—”

“To die in a car crash—yeah, I know. I don’t care. The car isn’t flying through the air.”

“Whatever you say,” she says, sounding amused.

“So what brought this on?” I say loudly, because I would very much like to change the subject now. “How did you learn about the taste bud stuff?”

“I don’t even know,” she says musingly. “One minute I was googling recipes using jalapeños, and the next thing I know I’m reading about taste buds. Wikipedia sort of just sucked me in.”

“It happens to the best of us,” I say, my voice solemn, but I’m still smiling.

“Anyway, what’s up? Why’d you call?”

“Wouldn’t it be awesome if we lived together?” I blurt out. I regret it instantly.

There’s a beat of silence before Sam speaks. When she does, though, her voice sounds normal. “Yeah, it really would. We could hang outallthe time instead ofmostof the time.”

I nod vigorously. “Right? No more lonely Sundays.” I glance around my living room; it looks like a sad little place.

Sam laughs. “Are you lonely today?”

“I mean, kind of,” I say, frowning as I push my hand through my hair. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’ve never had this problem before living by myself, but today my place just seems…empty.” My voice is gruff, and I’m suddenly embarrassed that I’m talking about all this. I’m being stupid.

“Well, you can always come over here,” she says, and I picture her shrugging. “Wini is cooking dinner; I’m sure she’d be fine with you joining us.”

“Wini doesn’t seem to be my biggest fan,” I say skeptically.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that. She’s just grouchy in general. Come on over. We’ll feed you.”

I look down at my bowl of ramen, the noodles sticky and overcooked. “Yeah,” I say. “Okay. I’ll be there in a few.”

I abandon my ramen, slipping my shoes on so I can go see the woman I can’t get out of my mind.

* * *

Baseball campon Monday is particularly brutal, mostly because it’shot.Summertime in Missouri comes with a humidity that makes it feel like you’re breathing underwater. The baseball helmets are sweaty by the time we hit eleven, and by noon, the sun overhead is almost unbearable. Normally I like this coaching gig; most of the kids I work with really want to be here, which means they’re willing to put in the hard work. That’s always gratifying. Today, though, I’m just relieved when it’s over.

Sam is right; I do reek on these days. I take a quick shower when I get home, opening the bottle of Sam’s peach shampoo and taking a whiff—like a creep—before putting it back in the corner of the shower. I’m not sure if I’ll ever actually use it; I’m pretty sure she’d notice if I turned up smelling like her.

I make sure to remember my cologne before leaving; it’s not like I want to impress her, I reassure myself, but I just know she likes the way I smell. And okay, I guess it wouldn’t be theworstthing in the world if my scent affected her even half as strongly as her peach scent affects me.

My hair is still damp when I finally pull up in front of Sam’s, but I am on time. It’s going down as a win in my books.

She must be waiting for me, because I’m only barely out of the car when she exits her apartment. She looks up and smiles at me, and I have to blink my eyes against the power of that smile.

Because she’s so beautiful.Sobeautiful. I canseeher goodness when I look at her—it radiates from her, making me want to bask in her light. She’s a golden goddess, a life-giving breath of air, the warm sun on my skin.

“Hi,” she says when she reaches me. “Are you ready to try some cake? Because I’m not going to lie: this is what I’ve been looking forward to the most since Maya asked us to do all this.”

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