Page 61 of The Book Club Boyfriend
Me:You’re not making fun of me?
Chase:Not this time. You held your own. Also, I think that lady wanted to be your best friend.
I bite back a smile.
Me:I was kind of a disaster.
Chase:You werehonest. People like that. I liked it.
Why does he keep doing this?
I should leave it there. Shouldn’t reply. Should definitely not indulge this fluttery, stupid feeling in my chest.
But then my thumbs move like they have a mind of their own.
Me:Thanks. For the tacos, too. (And the margarita the size of my head.)
Chase:Anytime, Calloway. Just say the word and I’ll bring a barbacoa burrito to your doorstep.
Somehow, I think he really would. He’d be that kind of boyfriend. A complete golden retriever. A total cinnamon roll… at least in the beginning, cutesy stage. Before the inevitable heartbreak, death, and destruction stage.
Still, I can’t help but lean into this a little.
Me:Tempting. You bribing me with food now?
Chase:Would it work?
Yes.
No.
Maybe.
Ugh.
Me:Not a chance.
I toss my phone onto the cushion again and fold my arms, as if that will somehow shut down the heat crawling up my neck.
This is fine. Just casual banter. Post-event debriefing. Nothing to see here.
Nothing at all.
Except the tiniest, most inconvenient thought forming in the back of my mind—
I don’t hate talking to him.
And that’s probably the most dangerous thing of all.
***
The little bell above the nail salon door jingles as we step inside, and I’m immediately hit with the scent of lavender, nail polish, and judgment. It’s the kind of place with plush pink chairs, cucumber water in glass dispensers, and calming spa music that makes me want to scream.
Harper inhales like she’s just arrived in heaven. “Ah. The sacred temple of self-care.”
I snort. “It’s a pedicure, not a pilgrimage.”
She shoves me gently toward the counter. “You’re getting the deluxe scrub and the hot stone massage. You need it.”
