by Emma Hart
“Scary and efficient aren’t even close to each other in definition.”
She shrugged. “Whatever. It made sense.”
As long as she thought so. “Hey, look, it has Netflix.”
“Bingo! Schitt’s Creek!”
“Schitt’s Creek?” I asked, my button hovering over the ‘guest’ profile. “Really?”
“What’s wrong with Schitt’s Creek?” Holley asked, crossing her legs. “It’s a great, feel-good show. Takes a few episodes to get into, but that’s the beauty of binge-watching. You can get into it in one go.”
I blinked at her. I really wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Mind you, I never really had the time to binge watch anything until recently. I just wasn’t sure Schitt’s Creek was the one I wanted to start with.
“I dunno,” I said slowly.
She reached over and plucked the remote from my hand before I could do anything. She flashed me a grin, then turned to the TV and proceeded to enter Netflix and hit the search icon so she could put on whatever she wanted.
I was shocked.
I grabbed the share bag of Doritos and sat back again, watching as Holley navigated to the listing and put Schitt’s Creek on despite my weak protest. “I can’t believe you’re making me watch this.”
“Okay, look.” She bounced on the bed as she turned to look at me. “It’s not that bad. It’s a great show. It’s funny and weird and all the good stuff that makes things funny.”
“I’d be worried if a funny show wasn’t funny.”
“Hardy-har. Aren’t you the comedian?” Her tone was dry, but her eyes glinted with amusement. “You know what I mean. It’s not like the episodes are an hour long. Sit through two and if you really, really hate, I’ll choose something else.”
“You’ll choose something else?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Surely it’s my choice if I don’t like your choice.”
“I’m not watching ESPN. I hate sports.”
“You’re sitting next to a baseball player.”
“I didn’t say I hated what they wear, did I?” She raised one eyebrow. “Mabel is onto something with the baseball pants, that’s all I’m saying.”
I grazed my teeth over my lower lip. “Noted.”
“What’s noted?”
“That you like baseball pants.”
“On other people, Sebastian. Not you.” She climbed under the covers and tucked herself in, then dragged the popcorn bag closer to her so she could probably eat the whole lot.
It’s what I was planning on doing with these Doritos.
My coach was going to kill me.
My runs were going to have to double every day to work this off.
Five minutes into the show, I said, “I don’t get it.”
“How do you not get it?” Holley peered over at me from where she was lying back, propped up on her elbow.
“How do they lose everything but a town? Why do they retain ownership of that?”
“I always assumed it’s because the town wasn’t really worth anything, but I don’t know. I’m not a tax lawyer. Or the FBI, for that matter.” She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Although I probably could be in another life.”
“Right. Okay.” A few more minutes passed, and I said, “So if they own the town, why is the mayor such an asshole? Don’t they own him?”
She blew out a long breath. “I’ve never really thought of that. I guess the ownership of the town and council are separate entities.”
I stared at her. “Wow. You really need some reality in your life.”
Holley blinked at me. “Why on Earth would I subject myself to reality when fiction is so much happier?”
“Because otherwise you’ll go insane?”
“Given that I’m lying here with you, I’m already there,” she finished on a whisper. She tossed the popcorn bag on the floor next to the bed and snuggled down under the covers, drawing them right up under her chin. “Now, shh.”
With a roll of my eyes, I dug my hand into the Doritos.
“I said shh, Sebastian!”
That was the end of my snack session, then.
I put the bag on the nightstand and licked my fingers clean of the Dorito dust, then joined her under the covers. There wasn’t much left for me—she was pretty much wrapped up like a little burrito, and I had to tug on it and unravel her a little.
She squeaked and huffed as she readjusted herself and tucked herself in again. I adjusted my pillow so I was comfortable and frowned at the TV pretty much for the entirety of the remainder of the episode.
I had no idea what was really going on here.
My sister loved this show. Hell, my mother loved this show, but I’d really never had any desire to watch it.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” I muttered.
Holley sighed. “I’m not explaining it again. It’s like English class all over again.”
I grinned. “I have no idea what you mean.”
“Oh, come on!” She looked up at me, and I realized she no longer wore any makeup.
Somehow, her eyes seemed even brighter than usual.
“I basically wrote half your essays for you. I did all the research, and the one time we had to do a group project and we weren’t together, you failed.”
I fought a smile. “I didn’t fail the second time around when she let me resubmit my paper.”
“Because I helped you!” She nudged her foot into my shin under the covers. “I had to explain everything about ten times because you never listened!”
“Hey! That’s unfair. I listened to you.”
“No, you checked sports scores, did extra practice, went to games…”
“Who had to help who in math?”
“My brain isn’t wired for numbers!” Her voice was a little shrill. “It’s not my fault! Besides, I would have passed without your help. Eventually.”
“Yeah, right, okay.”
“What?”
“Holley, do you remember that practice test? You got two questions right. Out of fifty.”
She blinked up at me, her dark eyelashes brushing her skin, and said, “It is not my fault the new Twilight book came out that week.”
“It is your fault you read that book instead of your textbook.”
“Mm, hot werewolves and vampires or algebra? Oh, such a tough choice.”
“It really shouldn’t have been.”
“Well, I don’t like math and I do like books, so…” The covers moved in what looked like a shrug. “It’s really not that hard to figure out.”
“There you go, then. I like sports and not English. It’s not hard to see why I almost failed.”
“Do you know what amazes me?” She tilted her head back to peer up at me again. “You could barely read an assignment question in high school, but you’ve read Game of Thrones. I could barely get through Game of Thrones.”
“Really? All that judgement and you can’t even read it?”
“Hey, I can read it! It’s just a lot of words. They’re big books. I needed palate cleaners.”
“What did you use? Twilight?”
“Nope. Murder mysteries.” Her grin held a spark of evil.
I narrowed my eyes. “I think I might sleep on the sofa after all.”
Laughing, she reached for her bottle of water and sat up just enough to drink from it. “Stop it. I’m not going to kill you.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yeah. I don’t have my car and my tarp is in the trunk, so…”
I grabbed one of the stupid girly throw cushions they always put on these beds and swung it in her direction. She only just moved the bottle of water out of the way, and she almost choked as she quickly swallowed what she’d been trying to drink.
“Now who’s killing who?” she rasped, patting her chest to clear her throat. She capped the bottle and set it on the nightstand before letting out one big cough.
Then she grabbed the cushion and hit me in the face w
ith it.
“I deserved that,” I admitted.
“Yes, you did.” She turned off her light and slid back under the covers, facing the middle of the bed. The glow from the TV illuminated her features, glinting off her blue eyes, showing the pucker of her lips as she pouted at the screen.
I had no idea what she was pouting at, but the urge to kiss her was…
Terrifying.
I wanted to slip my fingers into her hair, tilt her head back, and kiss her until we sank down in the pillows and my body was covering hers.
But I didn’t want to be punched in the face either, so I didn’t do that.
I settled down myself, looking at the TV. I still didn’t know what was going on in this motel with the eccentric actress—who I was pretty sure was the mom in the original two Home Alone movies—and I wasn’t sure I would ever figure it out.
But I didn’t argue anymore.
This was the closest I’d felt to her since I’d walked into Bookworm’s Books, and I wondered if maybe—just fucking maybe—this might be a friendship we could repair.
If not more.
If I was lucky.
***
“Thank you,” Holley said, leaning on my car window. “For giving me a ride down here.”
I glanced at the garage behind. “That’s it? Just for the ride? Not for paying for your repairs?”
“Hey, if you hadn’t coerced me into the wedding in the first place, I wouldn’t have busted my tire.”
Shit.
She was right.
That was irritating.
“All right, all right, I’m sorry.” I fought the twitch of my lips. “And you’re welcome.”
“I know.” She didn’t bother to fight her own smirk. “Annoyingly… I had fun.”
“I know.” This time, I let it go, and my lips tugged to one side when I winked. “Your dancing leaves a lot to be desired, though.”
“You dance like my dad,” she shot back. “And nobody needs to see that in public. Except they do at least once a week, but I digress.”
My smirk turned into a big ass grin. “I am an excellent dancer, actually.”
Holley pulled off her glasses and held them out to me.
“What are you doing?”
“Offering you these. I think you need them.”
“Ha ha ha,” I replied dryly. “You put those on before you drop them.”
She poked her tongue out. “Shut up.”
“Never.”
She stared at me for a moment, then said, “Thank you.”
My eyebrows lifted. “For what?”
“For this weekend.”
I didn’t speak, waiting for her to elaborate.
She dropped her chin and fiddled with the tassels on her scarf. “I’m glad we were able to clear everything up. From prom.” Her voice almost wavered, but she cleared her throat and looked back up. “As much as I wish things were different, I’m glad I know the truth now.”
I reached out of the open window and cupped her chin, my mouth curling into a small smile. “You’re not half as glad as I am. Do you think we can move on now?”
“Mostly.” She tried desperately to keep a straight face, but as always, her eyes gave her away. “I might still hold a little bit of a grudge. For a while. You know. As a woman.”
“Oh, of course. I would expect nothing less.” I leaned over. “But don’t forget, you’re still technically my fake girlfriend.”
All semblance of amusement dropped. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“I’ll fix it,” I said hurriedly. “I’ll fix it.”
“Do you promise?” Holley asked, backing away from the truck.
I waited for a minute then said, “No.”
Then I pulled away before she could respond.
I was in so much fucking trouble.
A part of me wanted to keep up this charade. It kept her in my life, gave us a reason to talk, and after last night…
Shit, after last night, that was all I wanted.
Holley in my life.
Even if she was only ever my friend, if we never acted upon what I’d intended to on prom night. We were different people now, after all, and nothing was guaranteed.
But having your best friend back was more important than anything else.
I just needed to get that message through to that little shitty piece of my heart that hoped there was a chance for something more.
Before I turned into a goddamn schoolboy with a crush and fucked the whole lot up.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN – HOLLEY
rule fourteen: your pants will not, in fact, set on fire.
“So that’s it?” Kinsley made the turn into the retirement home and flicked off her blinker. “You’re telling me that his granddad thinks you’re dating, and you have to go along with it?”
“Yup.” I popped the ‘p’ as I looked out at the expansive building that housed the White Peak seniors.
Sounded like a pop band.
A very, very cheesy pop band.
“I mean, I assume that’s still the case,” I continued, unbuckling my seatbelt as she killed the engine. “Seb said he’d talk to his family, but he had to see his doctor this morning so I haven’t spoken to him to be able to confirm it.”
“Seb, huh? Wasn’t he Sebastian just a few days ago?”
“Shut your ass.” I glared at her over the top of her car, ignoring her smirk. She knew as well as I do that this past weekend had changed just about everything, and I was struggling to adjust to my new view of my world and our history and how everything fit together.
I had never had closure over the ending of my friendship with Sebastian. For ten years he’d been the closest person to me other than my sister and my best friends and losing him had felt as if someone had reached inside of me and ripped out a piece of my soul.
But now that piece of my soul was back, and despite the wedding, I didn’t know what to do about it.
Ever since he’d taken me to pick up my car yesterday morning, I’d had some much-needed space from him and our… situation. I was hesitant to call it a relationship because I didn’t really know what defined it just yet, so ‘situation’ was definitely a better descriptor.
Sadly, the clarity I’d hoped would magically slap me on the ass hadn’t happened.
The only thing that’d slapped me on the ass was the freezer door when I went for more ice-cream.
Such was my life.
Maybe the universe was trying to tell me something.
Like to stay out of the freezer.
Quacking from the duck pond filled the air. It wasn’t what I’d consider a nice, calm quacking—not that I was sure there was such a thing, if you asked me all quacking sounded somewhat violent—but this was…
Intense.
“What the hell is going on here?” Kinsley asked, shoving the car door shut.
“I have no idea, and I’m not entirely sure I want to find out,” I admitted, following suit and heading toward the front door so we could sign in at reception.
I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to sign in, but here we were.
Besides, the seniors were expecting us. It wouldn’t go down well if we backed out now.
We signed in using the guest book at the front, took visitor badges from the new nurse at reception, and headed straight out to the expansive back yard where it was freezing.
I don’t know who let these people get ducks.
They clearly hadn’t considered the implications of old people looking after ducks in the winter in Montana. It wasn’t like we lived in Florida up here. These people were already walking hospital admissions without the threat of rogue ducks in icy weather.
We walked out into what could only be described as a bloodbath.
Without the blood.
Fine.
A featherbath.
It was a featherbath.
There were feathers everywhere. White, brown, black, purple—why was there a purple feather? Surely that wasn’t from a duck?�
��feathers were strewn across the smattering of snow that had dusted the ground early this morning. A sizeable number of the residents were outside, wrapped up in their winter best, and appeared to be desperately trying to put—
“Is that a coat?” Kinsley asked, squinting.
I removed my glasses and used the end of my scarf to clean them, then put them back on. “Looks like it. What are they doing over there?”
“I don’t think I want to know,” she replied, simply reaffirming that my earlier thought was absolutely correct.
We should have gone for soup instead.
God, I loved soup.
My stomach rumbled.
Great. Now I was hungry.
Kins glanced at me but didn’t say anything, although she couldn’t hide the small twitch of her lips.
This was what happened when I skipped breakfast.
“Grandma, what is going on?” I asked, drawing level with the bench where she was sitting with a thermos full of tea. “You can hear that noise in the parking lot.”
“I imagine you can, dear.” She sipped tea out of the little silver lid. “Mabel has lost her marbles.”
“I didn’t know she had any,” Kinsley remarked. “Is that a coat?”
“Mm.” Grandma Rosie’s eyes narrowed with disapproval as she surveyed the scene in front of us. “She’s going to break a hip trying to dress those ducks.”
“But why is she trying to dress the ducks?” I questioned.
“I have no clue, dear,” Grandma replied, then finished the last of her tea. “I’m bored. I’m going inside to watch The Price is Right. Are you coming?”
“Uh…”
“Oh, God, what is he doing?” Kinsley stomped off toward the pond.
I glanced at my grandmother. “You go on,” I said. “I’m just gonna help Kinsley. Oh, and if you take my purse, you’ll find your book in there.”
Grandma didn’t need telling twice. She’d been waiting for eight months for the next book in the regency romance series she’d been reading, and it didn’t even release for another few days.
This was me in her good books.
“You’re such a good granddaughter. Better than your sister,” she mused.
“She just had a baby,” I reminded her. “She can barely pee comfortably, never mind anything else.”
