Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65304 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“Let’s do ten,” I say. “We’ll let the snowplows get through the neighborhood and give the ice on the freeway time to melt before we head out.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Harlow says in a voice that would be more appropriate to declaring the family pet has drowned in the bathtub and will be buried in the back yard. She flutters her fingers as she starts toward her room. “Later. I need to pack. If I don’t bring every ugly holiday sweater Gram has ever given me, her feelings will be hurt.”
“Don’t take the lack of enthusiasm personally,” Evie whispers once Harlow’s door has closed behind her. “She’s pretty stressed about the trip. Her gram’s health isn’t the best right now. That’s why they moved up their family reunion from the usual June celebration to a winter thing. They’re not sure she’s going to live to see another summer.”
My brow furrows. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah,” Evie says. “She and Harlow are really close, too. Always have been, ever since she was little.”
“Speaking of little Harlow,” I say, figuring it’s okay to ask a question like this. Harlow is Evie’s best friend, after all. My being concerned about her emotional well-being isn’t coming completely out of left field. “I was thinking, while she was laughing, about how much she used to smile. Is she still like that? When I’m not around, of course?”
Evie laughs, but her smile fades quickly, replaced by her thinking face. “Now that you mention it…no. But she’s in a crazy competitive master’s program and the dickheads in her study group this semester were the worst. And her gram’s health is failing, and her parents have been fighting even more than usual. Maybe she’s just going through one of those seasons of struggle.” She wrinkles her nose. “As much as we’d like the ones we love to be happy and healthy all the time, sometimes you can’t help feeling sad. Sometimes sad is the only option, and that’s okay.”
“There is a season and a time to every purpose under heaven,” I quote, making Evie’s face light up again.
“Exactly.” She squeezes my bicep. “You clearly got more out of Dad’s church phase than I did.”
I grin. “Nah. I just like that song by The Byrds.”
“Oh, yeah, that is a good one.” She wiggles her brows. “You should play it for Harlow tomorrow in between happy podcasts. She loves classic rock, too. You two are way more alike than you think. If you give it a chance, you might actually become friends. Stranger things have happened.”
“No, they haven’t,” I say, making her laugh again.
“Valid. Want to play poker until I’m sure you don’t have a concussion?”
I nod. “Absolutely. For quarters from me and cookies from you. I know you have some good ones hidden around here somewhere.”
She winks. “Yes, I do. And I’ll even give you one to take home once I take all your quarters.”
We play poker and talk about what to get Dad for Christmas, and if Evie notices my gaze drifting to Harlow’s closed door, she doesn’t say anything about it. But Harlow doesn’t emerge, and when it’s time for me to go, I tell myself I’m glad about that.
Now, I think naively, I’ll at least have a shot of dreaming about something other than Harlow naked in my bed.
Spoiler alert: I still dream about Harlow naked in my bed.
I clearly have problems.
Maybe several of them.
Chapter Three
Harlow
I don’t believe in signs.
I don’t believe in signs.
I don’t. Believe. In signs.
The next morning, I repeat the mantra over and over as I’m showering and blow-drying my hair, reminding myself of several very important facts.
I hate Derrick. He’s slightly more tolerable since he started treating Evie with the respect she deserves, but he’s still a smug, overbearing jerk who has the audacity to call me bossy, like it’s some kind of cute nickname, and I hate that. Hate, I tell you.
Even if I wanted him to be my fake date, he would say no. Derrick’s been saying “no” like it’s his job since Evie and I were teens begging him to let us practice driving his SUV or to grab us a six-pack of cheap beer for our graduation party. I can practically see the way his lip would curl as he asks, “Are you serious?” in that “I’m so much older and wiser than you are, foolish Harlow, why must you be so foolish?” voice of his.
In the unlikely event he actually said yes to my plan, it would end in disaster. The chances that we could stop sniping at each other long enough to convince my family we’re madly in love, are slim to none. And even if we played the sweet, syrupy, oh-so-devoted couple to a tee, my parents and sister, at the very least, would likely have a hard time believing I’ve landed Evie’s big brother. They’ll remember his magnificent, out-of-my-league-ness from back in the day.