Page 45 of A Vine Mess
Amara, as the only one of my sisters to not have read the series, groaned, albeit good-naturedly. And before we could dive deep into a bookish discussion, she promptly changed the subject.
“Sooooo, El. Tell us how it’s going!”
“Seriously,” Delia said. “We haven’t heard from you in days.”
“I literally texted the group chat like an hour ago.”
“It’s not the same as face-to-face,” she pouted.
“We’re hardly face-to-face now,” I pointed out.
“Whatever,” my middle sister said with a wave of her hand. “Tell useverything.”
I chewed on my bottom lip, debating exactly how much I should share. I’d been intentionally keeping my status messages vague, mostly because I wasn’t sure what the fuck I was doing anymore.
But if anyone could help me figure it out, it would be them.
“I think I like him,” I blurted.
Two of them snorted, though I couldn’t be sure which two, and Chloe held up her free hand, saying, “What’s not to like?”
“No, I mean like…” I trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.
“You want to fuck him.”
I rolled my eyes but huffed out a laugh. Leave it to Delia to cut right to the chase.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Badly. But that’s not all.”
“Oh,” Amara said in realization. “Youactuallylike him.”
“That’s what I just said.”
“So what’s the problem?” Brie asked.
And that was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? I didn’t actuallyknowwhat the problem was. Was it that I felt it was too soon after the end of such a long relationship to move on? No, it couldn’t be that. While I still had some things to work through personally as far as the scars Alfie left on me were concerned, I’d emotionally moved on. I’d let go of the embarrassment that I’d given him so much time.
Without a doubt, it had nothing to do with concern that he didn’t feel the same. He’d been showing me for literalyears, although not overtly, that he was into me. And he hadn’t minced words in Sioux Falls.
That left only one thing.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” I whispered.
Through the phone, even from hundreds of miles apart, I could feel my sisters softening toward me.
“But El…” Delia said. “What if itdoes?”
It really should’ve been that simple.
“Start at the beginning,” Chloe said. “Tell us exactly what has happened so far.”
So I did. I walked them through the trip to the UP, about kayaking and the fresh fish and watching the sunset together. I told them about the banter and suggestive comments, about how he’d become distant that evening, and the whole next day he was practically mute, not stringing more than a handful of words together every time he spoke to me.
“The mood swings are giving me whiplash,” I admitted.
He’d been better since we crossed into South Dakota—basically since that impromptu stop in Sioux Falls, when he’d admitted his feelings. Unburdening himself had seemingly donewonders for his attitude.
“Maybe he’s PMSing,” Delia supplied.
