my mom or something to do with Jade.
Reed: Favorite dish?
I fight the smile that wants to stretch across my face.
Me: I’m half tempted to pick a hard dish like lamb.
Reed: Do you like lamb?
Me: Not particularly.
Reed: Ding. We’re a match.
Me: Not many people like lamb, so…
Reed: Are you underestimating our fate?
Me: Um…I’m clearly stating that it’s some sign that we both don’t like lamb.
Reed: Fine. What about duck?
Me: Never had it.
Reed. What about sushi?
Me: Depends where from and please don’t make that Friday.
Reed: Why? I could get all the supplies. We could do it together and then I can eat it off of you.
Me: Cliché alert.
Reed: Fine, you can eat it off me.
I laugh and Chelsea slides along the bench until her hip checks mine.
Me: As much as I like your body, I’m not sure about eating sushi off it.
Reed: Well I am VERY sure I’d enjoy eating anything off of you. Or just eating you in general. ;)
What was a slight tingle between my thighs a second ago is now an incessant throbbing.
“Shit, this guy,” Chelsea says.
I turn the phone away. “This is private.”
“Fine, I’ll leave your kinky ass to yourself.” She stands and puts her hair in a ponytail.
Me: Can we talk about this later?
Reed: We can test all this out on Friday.
Me: You really are relentless.
Reed: Only when it counts.
My stomach flips a few times.
“Girls!” Tad screams into the locker room. “You have nothing I want to see, but if you don’t get your butts out here now, I’m coming in.”
“Let’s go.” Hannah and Chelsea leave the locker room and I sit on the bench staring down at his text, not knowing how to respond.
Me: Gotta go. Have a great day.
Reed: I’ll be thinking of you.
I shove the phone into my locker, shut the door and lock it, feeling a little overwhelmed by the feelings taking over me. It all seems too quick, too early, too fast. It also seems as impossible to stop as a runaway train.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thursday night, I arrive home from working out early enough to have dinner with Jade, so my mom could leave for a girl’s night out with her friends.
I prepare my shake and watch Jade eat chicken nuggets as my stomach grumbles. The first day of the cleanse was brutal, but I’m getting used to the feeling of my stomach eating itself.
“How was school?” I ask.
“Good.” She mumbles over her food. “I think I have a crush on Logan.”
Oh boy. Is this stuff really starting already? “I think maybe you like him as a friend,” I suggest.
“A lot of girls have crushes on the boys.” She takes a drink of her milk.
“That doesn’t mean you have to. There’s plenty of time for that.” I walk over and smooth out her hair, wondering if I could be the first mom to stop her kid from growing older. Her innocence is slipping away from me.
“It’s not a big deal. He asked me to go to the carnival with him and his mom.”
I sip my shake, my eyes closing while I try to pretend to myself that it’s a real strawberry shake with whip cream. “What about Henry? He probably wants to go with you.”
“That’s what I told Logan. That Henry had to come with us.”
“What did Logan say?”
“He said he’s not into three-ways.”
My shake spews out of my mouth all over the table.
“Mom!” Jade screeches and we both get up to grab the paper towels.
“Sorry,” I say, taking them from her hands and cleaning up the mess while she sits back down to finish her dinner.
“I told Logan that we do four-ways all the time,” she goes on to say while she watches me clean up.
Please, please hold it together, Vic.
“Four-ways?” I ask.
“Yeah, you, me, Henry and Reed,” she says it in the tone of, like ‘duh mom get a clue.’
“At your age, group outings are a good way to have fun.” I walk over to the garbage under the counter and toss the paper towels in.
“Logan doesn’t think so.” She rolls her eyes.
“Well, then I guess he’s going to miss out, huh?” I wink.
“You winked like Reed,” she squeals.
“He must be wearing off on me.”
I haven’t dated over the past two years, so there’s been no one I’ve had to talk to Jade about. No one that would penetrate our bubble, but Reed is slowly breaking past that hard, protective exterior I wrapped around us.
“Can we talk, Bug?” I ask, tears already threatening to spill.
“We are talking, Mommy,” she says, literal