Page 31 of In Your Wildest Dreams
“Got it.” With one hand in the air in a wave, I hurry back to my guesthouse. Or at least it’s mine for a few more weeks.
Shutting the door, I lean my back against it and blow out a breath. Looks like I’ll be spending the rest of my day searching classifieds.
I grab my backpack and take it to the couch. Sitting cross-legged, I pull out my laptop and open it up. Nothing new has posted since the last time I searched so I go through the same few options. They’re either way out of my price range or too far away from campus. Beggars can’t be choosers at this point though. Looks like I’ll be commuting in every day.
I unzip the front pocket of my backpack and dig around for a pen and paper to write down the contact information for the properties. A piece of paper flies out with the pen. I unfold it and stare at Ash’s handwriting.
I’m not sure I believe in fate, but if I did, I’d say the universe is telling me there’s another option. That or the universe thinks I’m an idiot for not agreeing to go out with him. Touché, universe.
9
A GOOD FEELING
BRIDGET
After two daysof texting back and forth with Everly, I’m mostly certain of two things.
I’m not texting with Ash. I know, that may seem obvious, but it did occur to me that maybe he just gave me two different numbers for him and was gonna be like “Surprise! You can sleep in my bed.” Cue, total ick. But it isn’t him. Or at least I’m ninety-nine percent Everly is real.
Ash didn’t lie. She’s nice. Or at least polite via text.
The paper that Ash gave me with Everly’s name and phone number is folded up and tucked into the back pocket of my jeans as I walk up to the adorable little yellow house.
The homes on either side are cute, but more rundown. Typical college housing, but this one looks brand new. The landscaping is meticulous with small plants and fresh mulch. It isn’t anything I would have recognized before, but it has the same look as Ms. Cole’s newly landscaped backyard.
Two steps lead up to a cute little porch that spans the entire front of the house with a white railing and two navy rocking chairs with a small side table between them. It’s like something off the home improvement channels my mother watches.
I’m certain I’ve written down the address wrong when a girl with blonde hair and a huge smile steps out onto the porch. The screen door slams behind her.
“Hi!” Her voice is more tentative than the expression on her face. “Are you Bridget?”
“Yeah. And you must be Everly.”
“That’s me.” She hooks her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans. “Ash said you were pretty.”
I open my mouth, then close it.
“Sorry.” She scrunches up her face. “That was super weird. Forget I said that. Come in. Grace will be here soon. She had a study group on campus.”
Everly turns and holds the door open for me to step in behind her.
My jaw falls open when I see the inside. It still has a new paint smell and the surfaces gleam. We’re standing in the living room, but the kitchen and dining room are visible. The dining room has a rustic-looking table with yellow upholstered chairs around it. Textbooks are laid out all around the top.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say as I take a few more steps. I look back at the living room. A large, blue sectional takes up most of the space. The TV is on Spotify and I smile when I see the name of the station is Harry Styles radio.
“Thanks. Yeah, it’s coming together.”
“You did this?”
“Mhmm. Grace and I already had a few pieces, but the rest we did ourselves. We found those chairs at a flea market and I reupholstered them.”
“I’m impressed.”
“It’s fun.” She shrugs. “Do you want some coffee or tea?”
“Sure. Coffee would be great.”
While she pours me a cup, she points out a few more things that she and Grace bought and Everly refinished. She’s talented.
