10 Blind Dates - Ashley Elston Page 0,1

that I don’t want to be with them—just thinking about waking up on Christmas morning without my parents has my stomach twisting in knots—but I just can’t spend my entire break trapped in Margot and Brad’s tiny apartment.

Once I’m back in my room, the first thing I do is call Nonna to tell her I’ll be there in a few hours. She’s distracted; I can hear the customers at the flower shop she owns talking loudly in the background, and can guess she’s only hearing about every third word I say.

“Drive carefully, sweetheart,” she says. As she’s hanging up, I can hear her shouting poinsettia prices at Randy in the greenhouse, and I smother a grin.

It’s six o’clock, and it’s just a short drive from Minden to Shreveport, where my grandparents and the rest of my family live. Nonna won’t look for me until around ten.

Four glorious hours to myself.

I fall back on my bed and stare at my slowly turning ceiling fan. Even though I’m seventeen, my parents don’t like for me to stay home alone. And when I do manage to pull it off, there’s usually a parade of deputies doing drive-bys—just to check on things. It’s all sorts of ridiculous.

Feeling around on the bed for my phone, I call Griffin to let him know I’ll be staying, but after eight rings it goes to voice mail. I send him a text, then wait for those three little dots to appear. I hadn’t told him I was trying to convince my parents to let me stay—no reason for both of us to be disappointed if it didn’t work out.

I stare at the blank screen for another few seconds, then throw the phone down on the bed and move to my desk. There’s a clutter of makeup and colored pencils and nail polish bottles scattered across the surface. Almost every inch of the bulletin board hanging on the wall in front of me showcases crisp white index cards for each college I’m considering. There’s a color-coded list of pros (green) and cons (red) on each card, plus all of the application requirements per school. A few sport a big green checkmark, meaning I’ve already met every requirement and been accepted, but most I’m still waiting to hear from. I call this my Inspiration Board, but Mom calls it my Obsession Board.

My eyes move to the first card I tacked up at the beginning of freshman year—LSU. Once upon a time, I thought it was the only school that would make the board. But then I realized I needed to keep my options open.

My phone dings and I glance back toward the bed. It’s just a notification that someone liked my last post—not Griffin texting me back.

I glance at the blank cards stacked on my desk and, for half a second, consider making a Griffin list. We’ve been together for over a year, and school is usually our biggest focus, but with the two-week break ahead and no midterms or papers to worry about, the idea of being here alone with him is exciting. Even though we’ve been taking things slow, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about taking our relationship to the next level.

Green: Together almost a year

We’re seniors and almost eighteen

Red: Haven’t said “I love you” yet

Not sure if I’m ready to say “I love you” yet

Mom would definitely have a problem if she sees that list hanging there, so I resist the urge.

My phone chimes again. I feel my heart lurch when I see the text icon, but when I check the screen, I see another pic from Margot.

I open the image and stare at it for a few minutes. Someone needs to take the phone away from her.

ME: ????? What is that???

MARGOT: That was a close-up of my toes. There is zero space between them. I can’t wiggle them or separate them. They’re like little sausages.

ME: What if they never go back to normal?? What if you’re stuck with sausage toes forever? What if you can never wear flip-flops again because you can’t get that little plastic piece between your first two toes? You’re going to humiliate your kid with those feet.

MARGOT: I guess sausage toes are better than sausage fingers. Maybe I’ll have to wear those really ugly orthopedic shoes like Aunt Toby used to wear.

ME: You could bedazzle them. And maybe write your name in puff paint along each side. They would be adorable sausage toe shoes.

MARGOT: Now you made me