“Maybe we’ll have to do it again.”
“Maybe.”
This was the point where things could be perfect or get awkward. And I’d come too far to be awkward. I picked up her braid and twirled the end with my fingers. “You know, if you were really my fiancée, I’d probably kiss you goodnight.”
She gulped. “But I’m not really your fiancée.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. She was back to bashful Abby. It made me want to kiss the blush right into her cheeks.
I paused, evaluating how nervous I was making her. She seemed okay. “True. But you committed to playing the part for the rest of the evening.” I stepped closer. She didn’t shy away. “And the evening isn’t over yet.”
“It isn’t?”
I leaned in and rubbed our noses together. She closed her eyes. “Nope,” I replied, my voice low and husky.
I slid my hand up her neck until it came to rest behind her head. Her breath hitched when I brushed my lips against hers. Everything in my body screamed at me to unleash my pent-up feelings. But deep in the recesses of my mind, I knew this wasn’t the right moment.
It was barely a kiss, chaste and almost over before it began. But that didn’t stop my heart from pounding in my chest. I drew back as her eyes fluttered open. They looked much like my brain felt, blanketed in a thick haze.
“Is this the part where we break off the engagement?” she asked with a slow blink and a tiny shake of her head. “The night’s officially over now.”
“That depends on you.” I threw the ball back in her court. I figured she’d be skittish. I wasn’t expecting what I got.
A slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. “I think we might be over, since you didn’t actually get me a ring.”
I tucked a wispy strand of loose hair behind her ear and chuckled. “I’ll work on that.”
“And I’ll reconsider your proposal when I see those two carats.”
“Gold digger,” I teased as I pulled her in for a hug. It was much longer than our kiss but way less satisfying.
She broke it off first. “Good night, Evan.”
Her smile melted my insides. “Night, Abby.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets and whistled all the way home.
Garland was still gone when I came in last night. And being the chicken that I am, I pretended to sleep when he finally showed up. I didn’t want to have the conversation I knew was inevitable. I needed to tell him I liked Abby. And, more importantly, that I thought she liked me. I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be too happy about it.
I woke to the banging of drawers and glanced at my alarm clock. It was only seven on a Saturday morning. “What are you doing up so early?”
Garland sat on the edge of his bed. After shoving his feet in his boots, hard enough to break a toe, he pulled the laces so tight I felt sure they were cutting off circulation. “I’m hungry.” He grunted.
I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. After I stretched and yawned, I said, “Hang on. I’ll come with you.”
He stood and smoothed the wrinkles from his jeans. “Don’t bother.”
My brow furrowed. “I only need a second to get dressed and brush my teeth.”
He grabbed his coat from the hook on the back of the door. “That meant I don’t want company,” he replied sharply while scanning the room. His eyes narrowed in on his beanie, which was sitting on my desk. Without a word, he snatched it up. The glare he gave me clearly communicated that I was no longer welcome to borrow it. He grabbed his phone and wallet, then left.
“Crap,” I said to myself. I ran my hands through my hair and let my arms drop to my lap. It felt like they were made of lead. My whole body did. Throwing my covers off, I swung my feet to the floor. If I hurried, I could catch him in the dining hall. I didn’t want to do this right now, but I didn’t want it hanging over us all day. Plus, it was probably safer to have the conversation in public where he couldn’t kill me.
I brushed my teeth and picked a shirt up off the floor. I didn’t change out of my pajama pants. There was no time. I didn’t bother with socks or shoes, either. I slid my feet into my slippers, threw on a hoodie, and hurried after him.
Garland must have been walking fast, because by the time I caught up, he was already seated, his plate piled high with comfort food. I took the chair across from him. “Can we talk?”
“No,” he grumbled. “I’m eating.”
“Can I talk, then?”
“Can I stop you?”
I sighed. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans last night. I didn’t realize you were asking Abby out—like out-out—until it was too late.”
He finally deigned to look at me. “Liar.”
My insides twisted up. “I’ll text her right now and tell her I can’t go. Make up some excuse about needing to drive out and see my parents or something. Whatever you want.”
“It’s too late.” Garland shook his head. “If you bail, she won’t come. And if you don’t bail, I’ll be a third wheel.”
“You won’t be a third wheel,” I argued.
His head lolled to the side with one of those classic dry as dust expressions. “Oh, please. I’m always a third wheel when you’re around.” He was stabbing at his eggs so hard I was surprised they didn’t bleed.
I set my hands on the table in defensive mode. “That’s not true. When the four of us are together, you spend way more time with Abby than I do.”
“Yeah, because you’ve designed it that way.” He stopped chewing and watched me carefully. I fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. I didn’t want to lie, so I kept my mouth shut. “Tell me honestly.” He paused. I waited. “Have you or have you not been trying to get Abby and I together?”
I held out for as long as I could, but Garland was very patient. “Yes.” I groaned.
“And how long has that been going on?”
“Since the day I met her.”
His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t ask me to elaborate. Instead, he set his fork on the table, picked up his juice, and took his sweet time drinking it. When he was done, he asked, “Is Sam in on it, too?”
I took a napkin from the dispenser next to me and started folding it, like a fidget toy. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
He scoffed. “You guys must think I’m really stupid. Or blind. What you’re doing is obvious.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “Do you think Abby knows?”
“Probably.” He shrugged. “She’s not dumb, either.” I folded my arms on the table and laid my head on them for a minute. “Why’d you feel the need to get all up in my business?” Garland finally asked. “I thought you weren’t in to playing games.”
I tipped my chin up to look at him. “I’m not. Normally.”
“Then what gives?” His disposition softened. Whether he’d meant to do it, or it just happened because he’s Garland and he can’t stay mad, it didn’t matter. If he wanted to talk, I needed to come clean.
“I thought you might be intimidated by me,” I said with a wince. I felt like such an egotistical creep admitting it out loud. “That I made you feel less confident. You know, because girls are always approaching me…” He snorted, but I ignored it and continued. “And because you always talk to girls but never ask any of them out.”
Garland’s face was blank. “Evan. Let me give you some advice.”
“Yeah?”
“Get over yourself.”
I blinked hard. My lips parted slightly from the shock. Saying something like that was so out of character for him—at least when he was being serious. I completely deserved it, and he was 100 percent right. But just the fact that he’d vocalized it blew me away. Those were not the words of an insecure guy.
“You think you’re God’s gift to women.” One side of his mouth tipped up. “And you might be right. But that doesn’t mean I’m living in your shadow. I don’t feel inadequate around you. I don’t need to compete with you. The things we have to offer girls are completely differe
nt.” Now he was fully smirking. “You bring fancy cars, expensive cologne, and ripped abs to a relationship. I bring happiness, love, and a deeper sense of meaning.”
“Shut up, butt wipe.” I was trying really hard not to laugh at him. It was pointless, though, since he was laughing at himself.
Garland scrubbed his hand down his face. “In all seriousness, I can understand why you thought what you did. And I guess I’m pretty lucky to have a friend who cares that much.”
He reached over the table and took my hands—no, held my hands. When he saw the random couple a few chairs down staring at us, he smiled at them, then batted his eyelashes at me and started rubbing his thumbs back and forth across my knuckles. I tried to jerk out of his grip, but he was stronger than I gave him credit for. And he was clearly taking pleasure in my discomfort. Freaking actors.
“Rest assured, mi amigo, I don’t feel threatened by you. I’m just incredibly picky.” He loosened his grip, and I pulled back as if I’d been burned. He threw his head back and laughed. And laughed. And laughed.
I wiped my hands on my pants to get rid of the cooties. “Not cool, dude.”
When he was done, Garland raised an eyebrow and said, “Maybe you’re the one who’s intimidated by me. I mean, I’m confident enough to be open about our bromance. Are you?”
He shrugged nonchalantly before shoving a piece of toast in his mouth. I swiped a slice of his bacon and chewed it while glaring at him. He left me alone for a minute while I picked more food off his plate. That’s how I knew he’d forgiven me. Then he slapped my hand with the back of his fork. And that’s how I knew I’d taken one piece of cantaloupe too many.
“Go get your own breakfast,” he grumbled, but the anger in his voice was gone.
I left to get some French toast. When I came back, he was finishing off the last of his fried potatoes. “Can I ask you something?” he said.
I smirked, repeating his earlier words. “Can I stop you?”
“Nope.” He grinned. “So Sam…”
“Ugh. What about her?”
“Is there anything going on between you two?”
“Nothing.” I waved my hands in front of me like an umpire calling safe. “As in, nada. Zip. Zilch. She’s a nice girl, but that’s the extent of my feelings for her.”
“Were you ever interested?”
I shook my head. “Never.”
“Why not, bro? She’s hot.”
“True story.” I shrugged and swirled my French toast through my syrup before taking a bite. “I guess your pickiness has rubbed off on me.”
“So the excessive flirting…” He pushed his tray aside and folded his hands on the table. “It’s all an act?”
“On my part it is.”
“Does she know that?”
“She should. That was the plan from the beginning. And I’ve never said or even implied that I’m interested.”
“That’s what I thought. I could tell you weren’t feeling it.”
“Hopefully it means she can tell, too.”
He nodded pensively. “Be careful. Sam’s persistent, and I’m pretty sure she likes you. All hot girls are crazy. One weak moment could cause a semester of regret.”
“Amen to that.”
I picked up my milk and clinked it against his empty glass. Garland laughed, but his expression rapidly grew somber again. The butterflies in my belly started dancing. There was one question he’d failed to ask thus far, and I knew it was coming. What I didn’t know was how to answer it.
“What about Abby?”
“What about her?” I busied myself cutting food to avoid looking him in the eye.
“Do you like her?”
“Of course I like her.” I took another bite and spoke with my mouth full. “She’s great.”
“Evan,” he warned in that I mean business kind of way. “Do you like her?”
I was proud of the way I maintained my calm façade. On the outside, I was cool and collected. On the inside, though, a thousand firecrackers were exploding under my ribcage. Yes, I liked her. I was crazy about her.
But Garland was about to admit he liked her, too. And it was all my doing. I’m the one who pushed it. I’m the one who stuck my nose where it didn’t belong. I’m the idiot who didn’t stay away from her yesterday when I knew I should. And now I was the one who had to make the sacrifice.
“Yes,” I said, breathing deeply. I mustered any shred of acting ability I had. “But only as friends.” So much for telling him how I really felt about Abby. It was a nice idea while it lasted.
Garland eyed me skeptically. “Are you sure? Because I do like her, but I won’t pursue her if you like her, too.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “Bromance before romance.”
Garland’s friendship was more important than a girl. More important than any girl. Except maybe the girl. But I was nineteen and we hardly knew each other. Abby couldn’t be the girl. Could she? No, I was doing the right thing here. Making up for all my conceitedness and cockiness. For all my selfishness and foolishness. I was making things right, owning my mistakes. Being a good friend.
“I’m sure.” I pushed my food away. Suddenly the thought of eating made me sick. I looked at him and forced a smile. “You have my blessing.”
Garland nodded his approval while he stacked up all our dishes. “Cool. Then you’re forgiven for inviting yourself on my date tonight.” I chuckled morosely as he pointed a finger at me. “Make sure you keep your hands to yourself.”
I went back to the dorm with a pit in my stomach, an ache in my chest, and a vow never to play matchmaker again. This business was not for the weak. When that poisonous arrow of love hit your heart, it stung. But having to pull it back out was brutal.
“How do I look?” Garland asked while examining himself in the mirror. He turned around and glanced over his shoulder, then raised his voice to a high falsetto. “Do these pants make my butt look big?”
“No, your butt makes your butt look big.”
He threw his deodorant at me and frowned. “Thanks a lot.”
“I’m playing. You look good, man.”
“I wish I didn’t have to wear that dumb hot pink T-shirt while I’m performing.”
I waved my hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. You can change back to your regular clothes before she sees you offstage.”
I should have been dressed like a hobo tonight, so Garland would stand out. That’s what a supportive friend would do. But I’m a glutton for punishment. I went a little dressier than normal with khakis and a button-down. Garland looked good, but I looked better.
Abby knocked on the door. I opened it and was floored. In all the time I’d known her, I’d never seen her dressed up. She was always casual—jeans, T-shirts, ponytails, no makeup. But tonight… Skirt and blouse, tall boots, jewelry, makeup. Her hair was down. I think she’d straightened it because it lay totally flat against her back. It looked even longer than normal. She hadn’t gone overboard, but it was enough to make any guy stop and stare.
I blinked a couple times, unsure what to say. Should I compliment her? Or was that a no-no because she wasn’t my date? Thankfully, Garland beat me to it. “Wow! You look amazing.”
She was wearing blush, which made it harder to tell that she was blushing. But I knew. “Thanks. You look nice, too,” she replied, glancing at me. “Both of you.”
“Oh, this old thing?” I gestured to my ensemble. She giggled.
Garland’s eyebrows crunched together as he looked Abby over. She was wearing tights, but there was still a good eight inches between her boots and her skirt. “Aren’t you going to freeze if we walk?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It’s not that cold outside.”
“Because we could drive if you want.”
“Nah, let’s walk. The parking lot is so far from the auditorium it’d be almost the same distance as if we left from here.”
“Good point.” Garland smiled at her.
“Always the thinker,” I
added, tapping the side of her head. Garland shot me a look. Alrighty, then. Making jokes was acceptable. Touching was not.
I should have kept my mouth shut when I offered to come tonight. But I just had to be a jealous moron. If I hadn’t said anything, Abby probably would have declined because she didn’t want to sit alone. Then I wouldn’t be stuck chaperoning her date with another guy…my roommate…my best friend. If someone asked me to describe my idea of Hell, this would be it.
I felt so weird. Any other day, the three of us would be hanging out and I wouldn’t change anything about the way I behaved. Now, all I could think about was whether what I’d just said sounded flirty. It was going to be a long walk. I’d have to keep my mouth shut as much as possible. And stay out of her bubble. It was an impossible task.
“Okay,” Garland said, looking at me. “I’m ready. Are you good?”
“Yep.” I slipped my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels.
“After you.” He ushered Abby out the door. I locked up and followed, staying two steps behind—down the hall, down the stairs, out the door, up the sidewalk. I didn’t try to get involved in the conversation. At one point Abby glanced back over her shoulder and gave me an inquisitive look. I smiled, but she knew something was up. I wasn’t acting normal.
“You know what,” I said before we got too far. Garland and Abby turned to face me. “I told my Mom I’d come home tonight. She was cleaning out her closet and found some of my old things. Asked me to sort through them and tell her if I wanted to keep any of it.” I started walking backward. “It’ll be faster if I leave from the auditorium. I think I’m going to drive over to the show. I’ll meet you guys there.”
Abby’s expression was confused, but Garland’s was relieved. “That’s cool,” he said. “We’ll see you in a minute.” He silently mouthed the word thanks. I booked it in the opposite direction. When I got to my car, I turned it on, blasted the heater, and banged my head against the steering wheel. Repeatedly.
I stalled as long as possible. Garland said he only needed to be there about ten minutes early. It was an improv show, not a play. There wasn’t a ton of setup. But I knew he wouldn’t ditch Abby until he could pass her off to me. I walked in at 6:50 on the dot.
The Problem With Cupid (Holiday Romance Book 2) Page 7
