Josh and Hazel's Guide to Not Dating - Christina Lauren Page 0,67

he glares at me.

I mumble a belated “Sure” before making a cabinet dive for the Cap’n Crunch.

Shoving a hand into the box, I continue, “You know, I’ve got animal family in town as well. You’ve met Winnie the Poodle, Vodka, Janis Hoplin, and Daniel Craig.”

Tyler looks at me over his shoulder and I answer the question in his eyes, “Sorry. My fish. Daniel Craig.” Another question lingers there, and I answer that one, too: “Daniel Craig is a fitting homage. My fish has got a great tail.”

I catch the amused smirk just before he turns back to the sink.

Maybe it is different this time. Maybe Tyler really has grown up, and maybe that makes it okay that I never will.

··········

When the doorbell rings, Tyler is halfway through the second bottle of wine. The single glass he poured me earlier sits mostly untouched on the kitchen counter.

He turns toward the sound. “Did you call me a cab?” he jokes, voice low and slow. “I thought I’d stay here tonight.”

The awkward laugh that comes out of me sounds like a cyborg malfunctioning, and I stand to answer. Up until now, we’ve been having a genuinely good time—I mean, not I’m gonna get some good time, but it’s been nice. Yes, there’s a lot of Glory Days reminiscing on his part, but I’m surprised to find that Tyler remembers things pretty accurately, and with not a lot of reimagined glossing.

I’m also surprised to find Josh and Sasha standing at the door. She’s got all her hair in a bun that looks like it could house a family of eagles, and is holding another bottle of wine. In Josh’s fist there’s a small bouquet of sunflowers.

“Hey!” Sasha smooches my cheek before pushing past me into the apartment. She sees Tyler there. “What a coincidence! Double date, take two!”

I look up at Josh, who is busy studying Tyler’s long frame sprawled familiarly on one end of my couch. Although we text almost constantly, I haven’t seen him all week, not since he left my apartment after we . . .

My chest seems to fill with helium.

“Hey,” I say. Josh blinks, refocusing his attention on me. “What’s going on, date crasher?”

He gives a little shrug. “Guess I forgot he was coming over tonight.”

Winnie barrels down the hall at the sound of his voice, running to the door.

“And you thought I’d make a swell third wheel to your hot date?”

“I thought you might want company?” he offers instead, reaching down to scratch behind Winnie’s ears.

Even though the idea of this makes me feel all glowy, I wonder if I reject this explanation whether he’ll keep cycling through them until he lands on something that lets him past the doorway.

I give it a whirl. “Try again.”

“We had extra wine and wanted to share.”

“No.”

“I haven’t had dinner, and smelled the delicious lasagna.”

I am a terrible cook and Josh knows it. “That’s the worst one yet, Jimin.”

He shoves the flowers at me. “You like sunflowers.”

My heart beams, and I step back, letting him in. He stops just inside to toe off his shoes, and says under his breath, “Unless you’d prefer to keep things . . . private tonight.”

Tires screech to a halt in my head when he says this—so tight, almost probing. Does Josh really think I would have sex with him a week ago and then bang Tyler tonight? I mean, I haven’t even changed my sheets yet.

Which I probably shouldn’t tell Josh. He would be horrified.

“We’re having a nice time,” I say, “but I’m happy to see you.” It seems like the best way to wipe the protective worry off his face, and also let him know that it’s pretty awesome that he’s come by because no way am I letting Tyler Jones inside inside tonight.

But a cloud passes over Josh’s face just before half of his mouth smiles. “Well . . . good.”

I hear a cork pop in the kitchen, and the glug-glug-glug of a hearty glass of wine being poured. “Haze,” Sasha calls, and Josh and I exchange a brief look at her unauthorized use of my nickname, “do you want some wine?”

“I’ve got some on the counter, I’m good.”

“She’s been nursing that same glass for three hours,” Tyler grouses. “You may as well pour her a new one.”

“On a Friday? That doesn’t sound like her.” Josh moves past me to take off his coat and hang it on the wall, with a lovesick labradoodle right on his heels. Even Vodka is sitting up straighter.