Josh is so annoying sometimes, yet I can’t ever stay mad at him for too long. He knows just what to say to make me feel better, or make me laugh. If the moment gets too serious, I can always count on Josh to lighten things up.
We wander through Wavelengths, Josh checking out the shoe section while I dig through the pants. I find him a pair of dark rinse jeans and some twill dark khaki pants. When we meet up again a few minutes later, he’s grabbed a few T-shirts and—of course—at least three hoodies. I grab the hangers out of his hand with a shake of my head.
“No more hoodies.”
“I love hoodies.” He gestures toward my sweatshirt. “So do you.”
“How many do you own?”
“How many do you own?” he throws back at me.
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you.” I start putting the three sweatshirts away on the store racks, Josh trailing after me. “Don’t you want to look good? Don’t you want to impress these girls?”
“Is that all I have to do to get laid?” The amusement in his tone is obvious. “Dress to impress?”
I stop and whirl on him, standing so close our chests bump. “If you don’t want my help, just say so.”
He holds his hands up in the air, his eyes gone wide. “Geez. Settle, Edes. No need to be hostile.”
Ignoring his comments, I head over to a circular rack full of long-sleeve button down shirts. I grab a couple in his size and thrust them toward him. “Try these on.”
“I don’t wear shirts like this,” he says with the faintest sneer.
“Exactly. This is why you need to change it up.” When he sends me a confused look, I roll my eyes. “You’re a senior, Josh. This is your last year of high school. You’ve filled out college applications. Soon you’ll be eighteen—a legal adult. I think it’s time for you to start dressing like one.”
Without a word, he takes the shirts from me and heads for the dressing rooms. I follow after him, making sure he takes the pants and jeans, too, before he goes into the first dressing room on the right, jerking the curtain closed with a loud yank.
Yeah. I made him mad, but I sort of don’t care. He’s being ridiculous, asking for my help, yet when I give it to him, he acts like what I’m doing is nothing but a big joke.
I plop down on the bench near the dressing room area and check my phone. I have two notifications from Snapchat—one from Molly and one from Abraham. I open Molly’s first. It’s a photo of her making a kissy face along with a caption.
Can’t wait until tonight!!!!!!
I smile. Right. The frat party. She tried talking to her older sister about it, but Fiona was like no way. So we’re going by ourselves.
I take a selfie and add a caption before I send it.
Me too! SO EXCITED.
Then I check Abraham’s Snapchat. He sent me a selfie, too, one where he’s like…trying to give me full-on smolder. His expression is serious, he’s freaking shirtless, and his black hair is damp, like he just got out of the shower. There’s also a caption. Of course.
Whatcha doin’ sexy?
I smother the laugh that wants to escape. Seriously? Sexy? I don’t even understand what’s happening right now. Life is so weird.
Holding my phone up, I make a strange face, forcing my chin down so I have like three of them, and I take a photo. I look hideous.
Perfect.
Nothing much hot stuff. What are you up to?
I add a few laughing emojis to counterbalance the hot stuff comment and send it to him before I overthink myself.
Josh pulls the dressing room curtain back and walks out, holding his arms out at his sides. He’s wearing a black button down shirt and the dark khaki pants and um…
He looks.
So.
Hot.
“I’m totally overdressed.”
“No, you look…” I shake my head, at a loss for words. Which is stupid. It’s just Josh.
It’s.
Just.
Josh.
“I look what? Bad?” He’s frowning, staring down at his chest, running his fingers over the shirt buttons.
“You definitely don’t look bad.” My voice is firm. My thoughts are going haywire. I think about the pact we made, how crazy I thought he was for bringing it up.
But hey. Maybe there’s something to this “let’s lose our virginity to each other” deal.
Nah. That’s crazy talk.
He lifts his head, his gaze meeting mine. “So I look…good?”
“You look great.” Understatement. He looks hot like fire. But I can’t tell him that. “You need a haircut.” I say this to break the tension, because there is so much freaking tension right now. Am I the only one who’s experiencing it? Or does he feel it, too?
“Yeah. I know I do.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up so it’s a riotous mass on top of his head. My gaze lingers, and I’m tempted to run my fingers through his thick hair and straighten it out.
Oh. My. God. Stop thinking like this!
“Go try on something else,” I tell him, waving my hands and shooing him away. He needs to go. Get behind that curtain and hide for a few minutes so I can gather my thoughts. “Try on one of the flannel shirts and the jeans.”
“Okay.” He sends me a questioning look before he slips back into the dressing room.
I breathe out a sigh of relief, my shoulders slumping. What just happened? I don’t like feeling this way toward Josh. Thinking he’s hot, being attracted to him. It makes me…uncomfortable?
Well, it should make me uncomfortable.
“Your boyfriend is cute.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I watch the sales associate who greeted us when we first walked into the store approach. She’s super cute with a bohemian vibe. Long wavy golden hair almost to her butt, a black choker around her neck, she’s wearing a flower print, flowing dress that swirls around her ankles when she walks.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I tell her.
Her eyebrows go up. “You could’ve fooled me.”
I’m scowling. “What do you mean?”
“You two looked totally into each other.”
“Yeah.” I laugh, but it feels forced. “No. We’re just friends.”
“Uh huh.” The knowing smile she sends my way tells me she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. Whatever. “Let me know if you need any new sizes or whatever, okay?”
I watch her walk away then check my phone. And again, I see Molly and Abraham have sent me Snapchats. Molly asks where I am, and I remind her I’m shopping with Josh.
Abraham’s I open with trepidation, wincing before I actually see what he said.
It’s another photo of him working the smolder, his lips slightly pursed, his eyebrows up. He doesn’t look half bad. Abraham’s a good-looking guy, I can’t lie, but he’s…Abraham. I used to call this dude my archnemesis for the love of all that’s holy.
Shaking my head, I read the caption.
You really think I’m hot?
Okay. I think I’ve gotten in too deep with this, and I’ve barely started.
“I like this shirt,” Josh says as he exits the dressing room, smoothing the front of the blue and green plaid flannel he’s wearing. He’s got it buttoned up practically to his chin, which looks kind of dorky, but the color is totally good on him. “My mom always said I look good in blue.”
I’m sure she did. It really brings out the blue of his eyes.
Like I have no control of myself, I stand and go to him, reaching for the button at the base of his neck. “Undo this. You look like a nerd.” I touch him, slipping the button out of the hole, then I undo the next one, too, my fingers actually brushing his bare chest. My fingertips tingle, and I drop my hands quickly, smiling nervously at him. “There. That looks way better.”
He laughs, tugging at his collar uncomfortably. “You like the shirt?”
“You look good. The jeans are good, too.” Play it neutral. Act like this is no big deal. It’s Josh. Joshua. Joshua
Evans. Your best friend. The guy who used to hold you down and fart on you. The boy who complains to you when he’s constipated. The boy who used to go into graphic detail when he described make-out sessions with his now ex-girlfriends.
Yeah. That guy. The one who’s just your friend.
“Thanks. I like the other flannel, too, even though it’s red and black. Think I should wear red? Or will I just look stupid?” His questioning gaze meets mine, and I stare into his blue eyes, getting a little lost for a moment. I shake myself, offering him a quick smile.
“You definitely won’t look stupid.” I glance at my phone, checking the time. “Maybe we should go ahead and buy this stuff, and then get you that haircut? I need to go over to Molly’s soon.”
His face falls, like I just disappointed him. “Wait, seriously? I thought you were mine all day.”
I thought you were mine all day.
That’s an interesting way for him to put it. “Um, no. Molly and I are hanging out tonight.”
“Doing what?”
Do I want to tell him what we’re doing?
No. No, you don’t.
“Going to a party.” The words fall from my lips like I can’t stop them.
Josh is frowning now. “Where at? And why wasn’t I invited to this party?”
“Because it’s not anyone we know from school.” I step closer to him, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “It’s at the university. At a frat.”
“Wait, what? You and Molly are going alone to a frat party?” He looks…furious. And he keeps shaking his head. “No way.”
I back away from him, irritated. “What are you, my dad? We’re going.”
“Not without me you’re not,” he says, sounding extremely possessive, which is just…weird.
“Dude, you’re going to ruin everything if you go with us.”
“What are you talking about? I’m an excellent wingman.” He actually looks offended.
“No, you’re not. Whenever we’re together at a party or whatever, people think we’re a couple.” It’s true. He’s a terrible wingman—at least for me.
“So? That’ll keep the college dudes away, then.”
“That’s the whole point of us going to this party, Josh. Maybe we don’t want to keep the college dudes away.”
He crosses his arms in front of his broad chest, glowering at me. Usually this look only makes me furious, but right now, he’s giving off—ultra sexy and protective vibes. Vibes I should not find attractive. Ugh. “Abraham and I will go to the frat party with you.”
“Oh, hell no,” I groan, shaking my head. “I don’t want Abraham with us!”
“Why not?”
“He’s acting like he’s totally into me, and it’s kind of weird. Seriously, he just called me sexy a few minutes ago in a Snap.”
“What? He said you were sexy?” Josh starts laughing, and I can’t help it. I start laughing, too.
“It is weird, right?”
“Yeah, I mean come on. You’re not sexy.” Now he’s full on laughing.
And in an instant, I’m not. I’m so not.
Instead, I turn and start running through the store, storming out of Wavelength’s front door without looking back once. Josh is calling my name, but I don’t reply.
I’m too flipping mad.
“Edes! Come on! Wait a minute.” Then he’s outside, too, right behind me and with the bohemian girl chasing after him.
“Hey, you can’t leave! You haven’t paid for that stuff yet,” she’s yelling, but we both ignore her.
I turn to face him, seething with anger. I know I’m not what anyone would consider sexy, okay? But I don’t need him to remind me of that fact. Talk about adding insult to injury or however that saying goes. It’s pretty accurate for what I’m feeling at the moment.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his expression forlorn. He’s hurt my feelings, and he knows it. “I didn’t mean it.”
I raise a brow but don’t say a word.
“Hey,” the salesgirl says, her earlier easygoing demeanor disappearing in a flash. “You need to come inside right now and either take those clothes off or pay for them before I call the cops.”
“I’m going to buy all of it, okay? Just give me a minute,” Josh snaps, making the girl rear back.
She mutters a few choice curse words under her breath as she walks back into the store, though I catch her lingering by the door, spying on us. Not that I can blame her.
“Edes.” He slowly comes toward me and touches my arm, his fingers gentle as he tugs on my sleeve. “Come on, you know I was just shocked Abraham said that about you, only because it’s so hard for me to imagine the two of you actually together.”
Right. I do know what he means. But his words are the hard, cold dose of reality I need to put me back in my place. The place where I look at Josh as just a friend, and not some hot boy who cleans up really nice. A hot, sexy boy who’s out to find an equally hot, sexy girl so the two of them can boink like bunnies all night long and rid themselves of their pesky virgin status.
Well, Josh wants to get rid of his virgin status. I don’t think he cares if he’s ridding it with a fellow virgin or not.
“Forgive me, okay? I’m sorry.” His voice is soft, and when I look up at him, his eyes are soft, too. He looks sad. Contrite. And like the sucker I am, I heave a big sigh and offer him the words he wants to hear.
“Fine. You’re forgiven.”
He exhales loudly and pulls me into his arms for a quick hug. I don’t even bother savoring it. What’s the point? He’d never go for me like that. We don’t feel that way about each other. We’re not each other’s type. He likes beautiful, tall, athletic girls, and I’m a short, sort of cute, hates any kind of exercise girl.
I need to find a boy who actually wants to hug me because he thinks I’m gorgeous and funny and smart. A boy who wants to kiss me because he thinks I’m…kissable.
Maybe I’ll find one at the party tonight. Anything’s better than hanging around Josh and feeling less than.
Chapter Six
Eden
“Can I be honest?” Molly asks.
We’re standing at her bathroom counter, curling our hair and staring at our reflections in the mirror. We’re looking pretty good, both of us wearing short flower print dresses that show off lots of leg. Though with me, there’s not much to show.
Our gazes meet and I nod. “Go for it.”
“I’m glad Abraham and Josh are going with us tonight.” Molly clamps her lips shut and slowly pulls the curling iron from her hair, creating a perfect curl. Molly has great hair, dark blond and thick, that falls just past her shoulders and always looks perfect.
Mine? Yeah, I’m curling it and I’ll add plenty of hairspray when I finish, but these currently fabulous curls will fall out within the hour, if not sooner. I don’t know why I’m wasting my time, but I always do.
“Why are you glad?” I’m shocked she’d say that. She’s not the biggest fan of Josh or Abraham.
“I was kind of nervous about going to the party alone. With a bunch of college guys.” She sends me a look, one that clearly says you can’t trust college guys.
Molly has a point. I didn’t even think of that, which probably makes me too stupid to live.
“They could drug our drinks or whatever and next thing we know we’re waking up in a guy’s bed, naked and with our heads pounding. Oh, and of course, we can’t remember a thing,” Molly says.
“You’ve been watching too many Lifetime movies,” I mumble as I start curling another section of hair. “So dramatic.”
“Better safe than sorry.” She sets her curling iron on the counter and unplugs it, then winds the cord around the base. “What time are they showing up?”
“Around eight.” It’s already past seven-thirty and honestly? I’m nervous. Is it because I have to deal with the suddenly attentive Abraham? Or is it because of what happened between Josh and me earlier today?
Though nothing necessarily happened betwe
en Josh and me. I’m starting to think it was all in my imagination. He seemed perfectly normal the rest of the time we spent together. He bought all those clothes from the pissed-off bohemian girl at Wavelengths, and then we grabbed lunch at a nearby sandwich shop. I went with him when he got his haircut and made sure the hairstylist didn’t cut it too short on the sides or on the top.
He dropped me off at my house around two with a cheerful good-bye, and I immediately went to my room, where I collapsed on my bed and stared at the ceiling for a solid hour, going over everything that’s happened between Josh and me over the years.
Okay, not everything because cramming almost five years of memories into one hour is difficult. But I hit all the highlights and eventually came to one solid conclusion.
Josh and I are just friends. We’ve always been just friends. I can’t have more than friendly thoughts about Josh. That’s just playing with fire.
And I’m not in the mood to get burned. Not by my best friend.
“We’re going straight to the party after they pick us up?” I ask Molly.
“If you want. Or we could kill some time and go somewhere else with the boys,” Molly says.
“Maybe.” The boys. Okay, I’m definitely wary of hanging out with Abraham tonight. I need to tell Molly about it, too. “So. Guess who likes me.”
“What?” Molly practically shrieks, making me jump. “Who, who? Tell me!”
“Calm down, it’s kind of an awkward situation.” I lower my voice. “It’s Abraham.”
Molly’s face falls, like I just told her that her dog died. And she loves Waffles the silly little mutt way too much. “Abraham likes you? Really? Wow. Um. That’s great.”
Wait. That’s not the reaction I expected from Molly. Though really her mouth is saying one thing while her face is saying another. “You think it’s great that Abraham likes me?”
“Well, sure.” Molly shrugs and busies herself by cleaning up the bathroom counter. She opens a drawer and sweeps all the makeup she’d just been using inside before slamming it shut. “He’s cute and smart, and he’s so funny. You two would make a great pair.”
Say what? Hmmm. “It almost sounds like you like him.”
“No way. I do not like Abraham.” Molly says those words too quickly and with too much force. That tells me she’s totally digging freaking Abraham.
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