Page 40 of Acting Merry
“Reese?”
Reese turns around, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. “Hey,” she says enthusiastically.
“Hi,” Megan repeats with a tentative smile.
I take my time cinching the trash bag, my eyes covertly watching.
“I just wanted to…ask you something,” Megan says.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“This whole sardines thing…”
“A little different this year, isn’t it?”
Megan gives a little laugh. “Yeah. Definitely. I just wanted to make sure you’re…comfortable with it.”
A loaded question if I’ve ever heard one.
“What? Oh! Yeah!” Reese laughs. “Totally. Don’t even worry about it.”
Megan’s shoulders drop with relief. “Okay, I hoped so. You’ve got Cole, obviously, but I just wanted to be sure. Okay, well, I’m gonna go catch up with Brady.”
“Yep! See you in a bit.”
Megan smiles and turns away.
Reese watches her for a few seconds, then her eyes catch mine. She gives me something between a smile and a grimace.
She offers to come to the car with me for the clothes, but it makes no sense to endanger the lives of two people, so I convince her to shower while I go.
The skate to the car—because that’s absolutely what it is—is only better than last night’s because I can actually see where I’m putting my feet. I manage it without falling this time, but the stabilizing muscles required of my back every time I nearly biff it make it tempting to take Brady up on his offer to switch “beds” tonight.
If anyone amongst the group deserves a deflated mattress, it’s that guy.
If I didn’t think he’d pitch a fit and make Hannah feel bad—and Reese too—I’d probably go for it.
“Is that you, Cole?” Reese calls from inside the bathroom to the tune of the shower water.
“Yep! Alive and well.”
“Thank heaven,” she says with relief. “Can you just set the clothes inside the door?”
I open the door like it’s tripwired, but the real danger is my thoughts and where they’ll stray. They’re not real thoughts, though, because I’m just a fake boyfriend, and I’m only fake attracted to Reese.
When she comes out of the bathroom with wet hair and my gray sweatshirt on, the little flush of pleasure I feel is also fake.
“You wanna change out of that, and I can start the laundry?” she asks, indicating my clothes.
“Yep.” I head into the bathroom and strip, then wrap a towel around my waist and open the door to hand her my clothes.
Reese turns from her place at the bed, gathering up her stuff. There’s the slightest beat—a little flicker of her lashes as she notes my bare upper chest before she comes and takes the clothes from me. It’s like a shot of helium to my ego—enough to get me out of my head about what’s coming.
I’ve showered and dressed by the time she comes back. It doesn’t take that long to start a load of laundry, so I can’t help wondering if the timing of her return was intentional.
“You ready?” she asks. “Tess is rarin’ to go.”
I run a hand through my wet hair. “Yep.”
