“McDonalds or Burger King?” she asked, cutting a left out of The Point’s parking lot.
“What?”
“Breakfast, which place do you prefer?”
“I don’t have a preference between the two, seeing as how I rarely eat at either place.” I wasn’t a fast food person at all. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I ate at either place.
“All right, then I’ll decide. Since MacDonald’s is closer, that’s where we’re going.”
“Okay.”
She came to a stop at a traffic light, flipped her blinker on, and turned to narrow her gorgeous eyes at me. “What? I’m a full-time college student and I work a part-time job, fast food is nine times out of ten the way I survive.”
I tossed my hands up in the air. “I didn’t say anything.”
“No, but you’re thinking something judgey. I can see it on your face,” she muttered. The light turned green and she gassed it again. At this rate, we’d make it from The Point to the nearest MacDonald’s in record speed. “I do Pilates.”
“Excuse me?” I chuckled. What the hell did that have to do with anything?
“I’m not totally unfit Mr. I-run-every-morning-at-five-thirty. I attempt to eat healthy, when I can afford to or have the time, and I do manage to squeeze in thirty minutes six days a week of Pilates.”
Images of her bending and twisting in yoga pants flashed through my mind. Now that would be something I’d love to see one day. I was sure I’d have a heart attack then, but oh, what an awesomely great way to die—death by watching hot girl do Pilates. Hell yeah.
“Again, I didn’t say anything, nor was I thinking it. I just generally don’t eat fast food,” I admitted with a shrug.
“Well, if you’re not hungry, that’s fine. It will save me some money. I just figured it was the least I could do since you stepped out into the freezing cold this morning to check your car for my card. And then for bringing it to me at work.”
She acted as though I was offending her. “I’ll take a sausage biscuit.”
We pulled into the parking lot of MacDonald’s and parked. Eva cut the engine, and held out her hand.
“Card,” she insisted.
I dug in my back pocket for my wallet and retrieved it for her. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.”
Climbing out, I raced around the vehicle to meet her. “What time are you supposed to go in to work today?”
“Not until 9:45, we have a little while.” She opened the door, and stepped inside the brightly colored place before I could hold the door open for her. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Just wondering how much time we have to enjoy this second date of ours.”
Eva glared at me from over her shoulder as we made our way toward the line at the registers. “Second date, huh? I thought this was more along the lines of a friendly breakfast for returning my card.”
“No.” I shook my head, and grinned. “This counts as a second date. You just happened to pick the place and budget for it this time.”
“Oh really?” She chuckled. It was a great sound, one that instantly made me even more thankful her card had gotten lost in my car.
Thank goodness for beautiful mishaps like that.
“So, where are we going for date number three, then? Is this how it’s going to work—you pick one date and then I pick the other?” she asked as we inched closer to the register.
“Absolutely. You seem like the type who enjoys a small level of control with things.”
“Nailed it.” She pointed at me.
After placing our order and grabbing our food, we found a seat. I stared at her from across the table while I unwrapped my biscuit. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and there was some sort of glittery eye shadow illuminating the lids of her eyes.
“Date three, where are we going and when?” She took a large bite of her hash brown, and eyed me.
I hesitated, because I hadn’t thought that far ahead just yet. “It’s a surprise.”
She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t particularly enjoy surprises, but I’ll let you have this one. I guess.”
“Good.” I took another bite of my sausage biscuit. “Because you have no choice in the matter. All I’ll let you know is that it’s tomorrow at seven.”
Eva smiled, and sipped her orange juice while holding my stare. I truly had to come up with something original for this date, because the first one had set her standards high, I was sure. I wondered how she felt about motocross racing.
CHAPTER NINE
EVA
When I got off work at two, I headed straight to Paige’s Closet without thinking of it being Sunday and the place being closed. I was in desperate need of a new outfit, and this place always had great stuff within my budget. Not only that, but it was owned by one of my best friends.
Pulling up in front of the store, my eyes skimmed the outside of the building, checking out the chic-looking outfits in the front windows. Paige was a natural when it came to fashion. I envied the trait. While I wasn’t some fanny pack wearing, tight-rolled jeans fool, I wasn’t the most creative when it came to putting outfits together either. Simple and comfortable, that was my wardrobe.
Lights on inside the shop caught my attention. I glanced around the parking lot and spotted both Paige and Lauren’s cars. They must be restocking or something.
Slamming my driver side door shut, I bolted through the cold and straight toward the glass door of Paige’s Closet. It might be November, but these temperatures felt more like February. People all over town were saying this would be our coldest winter yet. When I was at Harrison’s Grocery the other day, every old person was yapping about the blizzard from fifteen years ago, claiming this wacky weather we’d been seeing lately was reminiscent of that year.
I prayed they were wrong.
Snow wasn’t my thing. I liked it for all of two seconds: That moment when you look up and see it slowly, magically, floating toward the ground, and then, before it even hits the ground, I’m over it. Christmas morning is the only time I feel it’s acceptable for snow to stick.
Stepping inside the shop, warmth met my cold skin, and music streaming from speakers tucked in the corners of the place floated to my ears—some Justin Timberlake song.
“Hey, sorry but we’re actually closed.” Lauren said from where she sat behind the register, messing with the split ends of her hair.
“Get a haircut,” I said.
I hated when I saw girls splitting their split ends. For whatever reason, I found it to be as bad as seeing someone chew off his or her nails. I guess you could say I had an ever-growing list of pet peeves.
“What the— Oh, hey! Are you off today?” Lauren dropped the strands of hair she’d been mutilating, and leaned on the desk in front of her. It was obvious she was about to go off on me before she realized who I was.
Lauren Myers was like my sarcastic twin. She got me and my snarky ways like no other female ever had before. Generally, I wasn’t one to have female friends, because of that sarcastic trait of mine, but with Lauren, that was what had brought us together. She didn’t give a shit. She was a major flirt, confident, and could be bold with her words when she felt the need.
“No, I worked from ten to two.” I headed over to the rack of long-sleeved tops, and began flipping through them. “Are you guys here putting new stuff out?”
“Of course,” Paige, the owner of Paige’s Closet, said as she came from the storage room. “And I know the perfect top for you. When I put it on the rack a second ago, I told Lauren I thought it would look great on you. Part of me was going to keep it in the back because of that, but I didn’t.”
Paige Jacobs was a sweet girl with dark hair and innocent-looking brown eyes. She’d been dating my best male friend, Cameron, for a little over a year now. It still seemed odd to me that Cam had settled down. He was one of those guys you never envisioned doing so. Paige had been exactly what he needed though, and I was grateful they’d found each other. She
was good for him.
Paige walked to the rack of clothes I was flipping through, and in two seconds, found the shirt she had been talking about. It was a long-sleeved, baggy shirt made of a sheer white fabric. Comfortable and simple. I liked it.
“You know me so well,” I assured her.
“Pair it with some jeans, maybe a set of heels or boots, and a sexy little camisole underneath. It will look awesome on you.” She smiled.
“Yeah, you could totally rock that. Maybe even add in some cool wooden earrings,” Lauren chimed in.
“Sold. Point me in the direction of the sexy camisoles.” I took the shirt from Paige, and draped it over my arm.
“What’s the occasion?” Lauren asked with a knowing smile. “Do you have a hot date?”
I laughed. “I do, actually.”
Paige held up two satiny camisoles. One was a standard white with a little lace trim along the top, and the other was a pale turquoise color. I scrunched my nose at the second one, thinking it might be too much color beneath the top.
“It would look cute,” she disagreed. “Try it, please.”
I took them both from her, and sauntered toward the fitting room in the corner. Pulling the bohemian-looking curtain closed, I placed all three tops on a hook inside and unbuttoned my jacket.
“Who’s the guy?” Lauren shouted over the music.
“How did you two meet?” Paige added.
Thank goodness, I was the only customer in the store, which was a rarity lately. Paige’s Closet was trendy, and word had definitely gotten out about it since Cameron bought Paige some billboard advertisement near the college.
“We met at Gareth’s Park, and his name is Sawyer.” I didn’t give them more than that.
Hanging my jacket up, I pulled off my top, and debated which camisole to try on beneath the sheer top first.
“Is this date number one? Where are you guys going?” Paige asked.
“Is the date tonight? Isn’t a Sunday night a little awkward for a first date? You’d think he’d go for a Friday night or something,” Lauren said.
I grinned, knowing what I was about to say would blow their minds. Slipping the turquoise camisole on first, I eyed my reflection. “Actually, this will technically be date number three and it’s tomorrow night.”
“Date number three?” Paige demanded.
“What! Why have we not heard about him before?” Lauren asked. “He must be a damn good catch if she didn’t want to share him until now.”
“Must be,” Paige agreed.
“Obviously he doesn’t fall into one of the categories you place guys into, but does he meet my checklist requirements? That’s the next question,” Lauren asked.
Lauren wasn’t as overprotective as her question might make her sound; this was just another thing we had in common—something that made it impossible for us not to be good friends. While I had my categories I placed guys in, Lauren had a checklist of questions she asked to weed through potential guys.
I pulled off the shirts I was wearing, and changed into the white camisole next to see what it looked like paired with the sheer white top.
“Let’s go through them,” Lauren insisted. “One: does he have a job?”
I hesitated in answering. He had a job. Right? He was in the National Guard, which counted as a job. I think. “He has a job.”
“There was some hesitation there. I hope you’re right,” Lauren scolded.
I tugged on my top, and pulled my jacket on. Grabbing the shirts I’d tried on, I slid the curtain open.
“Car. What about a car? Does he have one?” Lauren asked, moving through her list.
“Yes.” That I could answer right away.
“Does he still live with his parents?” Lauren continued.
Did he? I wasn’t sure. We hadn’t made it to the most basic questions yet. All I knew about him was his age, he was in the National Guard, his cousin was Wes Keeton, he had a car, and he was damn good-looking with a great sense of humor.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “I guess that will be something I need to bring up at some point.”
“Where is he taking you?” Paige took the white camisole from me, and handed me a pair of light-colored skinny jeans with a few holes near the front pockets. “Here, go try these on. They’ll look great with that top.”
I didn’t argue. I’d learned early on in our friendship that when it came to clothes, it was easier to go with whatever Paige said. She was persistent, and generally always right. Draping the jeans over my arm, I walked to the desk and set down the two tops I would be buying.
“I hope I brought enough for all this,” I said on my way toward the fitting room.
“You know you get a heavy discount,” Paige called after me.
Tugging at the curtain, I sealed myself off from the main store again and kicked off my shoes. Peeling off my jeans, I thought about Lauren’s questions. My mind somehow shifted to wondering what Sawyer’s date tomorrow night would be. I prayed it wasn’t a movie. There was no way I would be able to get answers to my questions if we were going to be sitting silently in front of an oversized screen for the majority of our date. Movie dates sucked that way. They were fine if you truly didn’t want to get to know the person, or if you already knew them well enough not to need to ask random questions, like whether they still lived with their parents.
“What are you guys getting into tonight?” I pulled on the pair of jeans Paige had handed me.
“Nothing much,” Lauren answered first. “I think I’m just hanging out at my place tonight.”
Turning to look at myself from every angle in the full-length mirror hung on the wall, I checked my butt out. The jeans fit nicely. Not too tight. Not too loose. Paige had nailed it again.
“Cameron had some guy place an order for four original pieces, so he’s probably going to be at the studio until late finishing up,” Paige said. “I’ll be home alone most of the night.”
I smiled, thinking of Cameron’s art. It was insane to me that not only had he opted to stay in Coldcreek and remodel his parents’ old house, but he’d also settled down with Paige, and finally opened up his own art shop, selling the beautiful pieces he painted when inspiration struck. Inspiration always seemed to be striking now that he had Paige in his life. She was like his muse. It was sickeningly sweet.
“How about we do a girls’ night?” I suggested. “We need to invite Blaire too. I’m sure she would love a break from all of the last-minute wedding details before her bachelorette party.”
“Oh my God, we really need to start planning that!” Paige fretted. “Can you believe her wedding is only a few weeks away?”
Tugging off the jeans, which would now be my favorite pair, I folded them and set them on the seat. Blaire Hayes was the girl that topped off our group. She was an RN at a local nursing home, and was set to marry Jason Bryant, her fiancé for just a little over a year, in a few short weeks. To me their engagement seemed like the longest one ever. My thoughts on engagements were if you truly meant the words when you asked, then you shouldn’t have to wait around for six months to year before you actually said the “I do’s”. While I knew Jason had truly meant it when he’d gotten down on one knee and asked her to marry him, I just felt as though they should have completed the ritual months ago.
Anyone could look at them and tell they were head over heels smitten with one another. There was a story to their love. Granted, I didn’t know all the gory details, but I did know enough to be able to say that they had been through some serious crap and came out of it together in the end.
“I still can’t believe they want to have it in the middle of freaking winter.” Pulling my shoes back on, I moved the curtain to the side and stepped out. “It’s too cold.”
“At least the reception is inside,” Lauren said. She was still behind the desk. Her cell phone was in her hand, and I was sure with the way her thumb kept flicking at the screen, she was trolling Facebook.
“Still, having it in
summer, or spring even, when there’s a semblance of warmth would be ten times better. I hate the cold.” I walked to where Lauren sat, and tossed the jeans onto the table.
“I like it.” Paige shrugged.
Making a face at her comment, I pushed the clothes toward Lauren. “Ring me up. I’ve got to run a few errands.”
“Are we still all on for tonight?” Lauren asked.
“I’m in,” Paige answered. “Whose place?”
My apartment was way too small, that was for sure. I didn’t bother offering.
“How about yours?” Lauren suggested, pointing to Paige. “It’s the largest.”
“I don’t know about that, but that’s fine. We can all have some wine and take-out or something.” She smiled.
Paige was modest. Her apartment was really the largest out of the three of ours. Blaire and she had been roommates for a while—since their freshman year in college, I think. When Blaire and Jason got engaged, Blaire decided a few months after to move into Jason’s house since she was practically living there anyway. Paige had opted to stay behind and foot the bill for the place on her own, while turning Blaire’s old room into an office and more storage space for her shop merchandise.
“What time?” I asked. I watched Lauren scan and fold my new clothes before placing them into a plastic bag.
“How about six? I’ll text Blaire and see if she’ll be off in time,” Paige said.
After paying for the clothes—which with my fifty percent off friend discount only cost me eleven bucks—I scooped up my bag, and headed toward the door.
“Sounds good. I’ll bring the wine. I have to head to the grocery store anyway,” I insisted.
“All right, see you soon.” Paige smiled.
“Bye.” Lauren waved.
Pushing the glass door open, a blast of icy wind slammed into my face. Ugh, I hated the cold. Rushing to my vehicle, I climbed in, Sawyer’s guy smell wafted to my nose and I inhaled deeply. I glanced at the passenger seat, remembering our little talk on the way to MacDonald’s this morning. A smile stretched across my face at the thought of our texting conversation before that. I couldn’t believe he didn’t like coffee. It was a mind-blowing notion to me. I lived for my cup of coffee in the morning.
Forget You Page 6