Page 17 of Pick One
But Fern didn’t give the phone back. Instead, Monica handed me a giant water glass full of slushy strawberry margarita and pushed me down onto the overstuffed sofa.
“So, whatisyour news?” Fern asked, sitting on the coffee table right in front of me.
I squirmed, reluctant. “Do you remember me mentioning how John’s sister and I wrote a children’s book? Well, it’s about that. And I wanted to tell John before I told everyone, because he’s the one who inspired everything, and… yeah.”
Istillwanted to tell John first. This felt like his news as much as mine, in a way.
I gulped down my margarita.
“You wrote a book,” Monica said flatly. “That’syour news?”
“Could you sound alittlemore excited?” I demanded. “Yes, that’s the news. Jeez. When was the last timeyouwrote a book?”
Monica and Fern exchanged another look.
“We thought the news was about John,” Fern said. “Other-John.”
I stared at her blankly. “Why the heck would you think that? We went on one date. It was… fine, I guess? Not newsworthy.”
“But.” Monica frowned and sat on the sofa beside me. “You got all dreamy over him. When we were walking in earlier, I asked how your date was last night, and you were all moony and distracted.”
“Not because of my date,” I assured her. “Because I’d just gotten an email about the book.”
“Ohhh.” Monica winced. “Uh. I may have jumped to a teeny, tiny conclusion…”
“Question.” Fern lifted a finger in the air but kept her eyes on my phone screen. “Does this Other-John person realize that your date with him was only meh? Because these texts… ‘Last night was so magical, Teagan’? ‘I need to see you tonight’? That doesn’t sound meh.”
“What texts? Give me that.” I snatched the phone away from her and quickly scrolled. “Oh,ew. Noooo. Nope.” I flashed Fern a guilty grimace. “He was nice enough, but I was actually sitting across from the poor guy the whole night thinking how much I’d rather have been home. He caught me daydreaming liketwicewhile he was talking about his five-year goals,and I felt so bad I hadn’t been listening that I did that overly enthusiastic encouragement thing, you know? Like ‘Oh my gosh, wow! That, um, thing you said was, like, so inspiring that I needed to, like, sit with it for a minute and take it all in! Live, laugh, love, you know?’” I shrugged. “I guess I was more convincing than I’d hoped.”
Monica snickered.
I frowned and looked up at Fern. “When the heck did these messages come in, anyway? I didn’t see them.”
Fern shrugged. “Check the time stamps, silly. They were on your lock screen under John’s last text, so… sometime before that? Ohhhh, wait! Is it possible thatyourJohn saw them? Because if so…”
I shook my head. “He’d never look at my phone unless…Ugh.” I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “Unless I asked him to shut off my alarm while I was on my Zoom call, which I did. But fuck, just because this dude wants to see me doesn’t mean I want to be seen!” I whined. “It was supposed to be Netflix Night!”
“Which you postponed,” Fern reminded me.
“SomyJohn and I could go out!”
“Did you tell your John you wanted to go out withhim?” Monica asked. “Or just that you wanted to go out?”
“I—” I deflated slightly. “I can’t remember. But what in the world would make him think I’d cancel our plans forthisrandom guy?” I brandished my phone.
Fern gave Monica a stern look. “Yeah, Monica, why would he think that?”
“Um.Well.” Monica quickly exchanged her full margarita glass for mine… which had somehow become empty in the short time I’d been sitting on the sofa. “That teeny, tiny conclusion I jumped to? It’s, ah… possible that I told your John about our conversation regardingOther-John. And I may have, um… saidyouhaddreamyeyes,” she finished in a rush.
“You what?”
“And it’s possible thatyourJohn looked a bit dejected and depressed when I suggested things seemed serious with you and Other-John. And, um… I’m kind of wondering if these texts might have confirmed that for him?” She bit her lip. “I think he was jealous.”
I leaned back in my seat and groaned. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Because even if I had been romantically interested in Other-John,myJohn is… he’s my John. No one will ever be as important to me as he is.”
Fern and Monica did their eyeball-talking schtick again.
“What?” I demanded. “Stop with the looky-looks! What am I missing?”
