Page 48 of Late Bloomer
I jolt, wondering how in the world she knew my runaway brain had latched onto Opal and taken a bizarre turn to the smutty.
“The flower competition,” she says, spinning her hand in a way that tells me I need to keep up.
My shoulders drop in relief, and I shoo out all thoughts of Opal and the fantasy of her body against mine and the warmth of her and how that might feel pressed against me if we were both—
“Uh, no.” I give my head a violent shake for emphasis.
“Give me one good reason why not.” Diksha plants her hands on her hips, arching an eyebrow.
“Because I don’t even know where to start? I grow flowers, I don’t… makeartwith them. It’s not in my wheelhouse.”
“Oh, what a pity you don’t have someone hanging around that would be perfect to help you,” she says, glaring at me.
I give her a few more confused blinks.
Diksha fixes me with a bland look before dramatically sweeping her gaze to the living room, a loud peal of familiar laughter careening through.
“Opal?” For some reason, saying her name makes my hands shaky and my voice wobbly. “Yeah, right. That would be a disaster.”
“More of a disaster than living on a property that North Carolina courts have apparently decided belongs to your mother who in turn sold it to a pink-haired pixie who wants to turn it into a shoe mill?”
“I think something happened to her hair,” I say, craning my neck to see around the corner. She usually wears the pink with so much pride.
“Focus, horny Pepper,” Diksha says, snapping her fingers in my face.
I choke on air. “I’m not horny!” I say. Way too loudly. Like, it will be a miracle if my neighbors a few acres away didn’t hear me.
It’s Diksha’s turn to blink. “Delusion doesn’t really suit you, love.”
“Okay, party’s over,” I say, pushing Diksha toward the door as she cackles.
“Thank you for coming,” I say as enthusiastically as possible, interrupting the hum of conversation in the living room. “And, uh, bye!”
There’s a two-second pause, then my friends get moving. They’re used to quickly recalibrating to my abrupt ends to social events.
“Bye, darling. See you soon,” Alfie says, kissing me on the cheek.
“Happy birthday,” Evens adds, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze.
“Need help with cleanup?” Tal asks, surveying the cups still littering the living room.
“Just need you to get that one out of here,” I say, jerking my thumb at Diksha, who is giving Opal a far too thorough goodbye for my liking. The pair laugh. That can’t be good.
“Ha. As if I have any more control over her than you do,” Tal says, voice low and a glint in their eye as they watch Diksha make her way toward us.
“Used an entire birthday wish on exactly that,” I say, glaring at Diksha’s shit-eating smile.
“Bye, Pep,” she says, finally—finally—getting to the door. “I’ll bother you tomorrow.”
“Would rather you didn’t.”
“That’s cute but I don’t really care,” she says, pinching my cheek before heading out, Tal following close behind.
“Thanks for having us!” Olivia says, she and Ophelia popping up in front of me. “Sorry to crash your birthday, but we had such a blast.”
“You aren’t driving back to Charlotte, are you?”
“We got a hotel closer to downtown Asheville,” Ophelia says. “For some reason, Opal wasn’t jumping at the chance to share her full-sized mattress with both of us.”
