Page 67 of Just Friends Forever
I step behind my door just in case any paparazzi are feeling extra daring today and are close enough to snap a shot of me inside. “I do.”
Troy’s confused as ever, but he opens the door, and Tori steps inside swiftly.
As soon as it’s closed again, I step out and take stock of her hair. She does the same with mine.
“Perfect,” we say in unison.
“Whoa,” Troy says, his eyes jumping back and forth between us. “What’s going on?”
I smile widely and step next to Tori to enhance the similarities. We both used a 1/2” barrel to curl our hair, which isreallyclose to being the same color blonde, and we’re wearingalmostthe same outfit: straight leg jeans, a tucked in white t-shirt, and a blazer. Her blazer is black, and mine is blue, but we can switch later.
“Stevie is a criminal mastermind,” Tori says. “She roped me into this little magic trick. The paparazzi seemecome in, and when Stevie comes outside and takes my car”—she attempts a slight of hand which makes me hope she’s not counting on a future in prestidigitation—“voilà! They’ll think it’s me leaving.”
Troy looks back and forth between us. “And then when she comes back in your car and you have to leave eventually?”
I shrug. “Hopefully they’ll think Tori’s just coming and going again. Besides, by then it’ll be too late for them to get what they wanted: pictures of me on my date.” I look at Tori, who shares a wicked, conspiratorial smile with me.
“Should we switch blazers now so we don’t forget?” she asks.
I nod, and both of us shrug them off, then swap.
Troy blinks and shakes his head vigorously like he’s seeing double. “This is… weird.”
“Excellent,” Tori says. “If it’s gotyouthis weirded out, it should work great on the paparazzi.”
“Especially since it’ll be dark by the time I leave,” I say.
“It doesn’t get dark until 8:30,” Troy says.
Tori raises a brow. “And?”
Troy shrugs. “Just seems kind of late for a first date. But I guess you need the dark to round out your shenanigans.”
If I didn’t know better, I might have said he was jealous, but he’s made it pretty clear that’s not the case. Besides, Troy’s always been protective of me. It’s what makes him such a great best friend. I should be grateful he hasn’t insisted on doing a background check on Landon or insisted on coming as security detail. It would be really hard to give Landon a proper chance when Troy is right next to me, calling me Monkey Lover. I don’t even want to know what his code name for Landon would be.
I suppress a sigh. I need to redirect my brain away from Troy. Hopefully this date will help with that. It’s not like I’m expecting much out of it, but I do hope I end up with one more friend. And maybe, just maybe, the attraction I feel for Troy is my sign that the possibility of love hasn’t gone up in smoke along with my marriage.
* * *
My hands are shakingas I get into Tori’s car in the driveway and buckle my seatbelt, but I try to act natural, to hold myself like Tori would.
Whatever I’m doing, it works. The paparazzi on shift hardly take note of my departure. There are no flashes to compromise my vision, and when I make it down the street successfully, I do a fist-pump.
I turn up the music and sing along as loud as I want, feeling as free as I did last night. It was the adventure with Troy that inspired me to think outside the box. It helped me remember that if I want something, I have to make it happen.
I lower the volume as I pull into the restaurant parking lot. It’s not a fancy place, just one of those corner cafes that aren’t much to look at but have great food. That fact alone helps me relax as I walk in. If it had been a Michelin star restaurant, the pressure would’ve been on.
As I step inside, a man just inside the door turns, his eyes narrowing. “Stephanie?” he asks.
I hesitate, realizing this could be my date or a fan who’s recognized me.
“Landon Mitchell,” he says with an easy smile. He’s a good-looking guy—curly blond hair and sun-tanned skin.
“Hi,” I say, smiling with relief.
“Thought I might be a crazy person?” he asks knowingly. I clench my teeth together guiltily as he laughs. “I promise I’m not any crazier than average. Should we find a table?”
I’m relieved when he finds us seats in a corner booth where it’s less likely we’ll be noticed. The first ten minutes are the usual small-talk you’d expect on a first date. It’s not awkward, thankfully. Maggie was right. Landon seems laid-back, which isn’t nothing. Most people are pretty jittery when they meet me for the first time, which is still weird to me. Landon’s easygoing chatting is a relief.
