Relaxing on my couch a couple of hours later with a new book, a bag of Cheetos, and a Diet Coke, I groan when my cell phone rings from my bedroom where I plugged it in to charge. I reluctantly get up to answer it then debate taking the call when I see it’s April. I must think too long, because the ringing ends, and a notification for a missed call lights up the screen, right before the ringing starts back up again.
Knowing she won’t give up, I slide my finger across the screen, and with a sigh, I put the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
“Hey? Seriously?” she snaps. “Did you not see I’ve been calling you since last night, after you disappeared? I swear if Uncle Trevor hadn’t told me that you caught a ride home, I was going to call the cops and organize a search party.”
Thank goodness I had the sense last night to tell my uncle when I was grabbing my purse that I was catching a ride home and to let everyone know I was okay.
“Sorry, I was tired. All I was thinking about was going to bed and my cell died. I didn’t charge it until after I got up.” I head back toward the couch and take a seat. “Did you have fun?” I want to… no, need to change the subject.
She snorts. “Of course I did. Now, answer your door. I’m outside.”
“You’re here?” I look toward the door like I can see through it.
“Yeah, now let me in. My hands are full.”
I get up, and as soon as I unlock the locks and turn the handle, she pushes her way in. I accept the cup of iced coffee she thrusts at me as she walks by, then shut the door. “It’s always too damn quiet in here,” she informs me as she plops down on my couch, looking around.
My apartment is small, just one bedroom and one and a half baths. The eat-in kitchen is separated by a wall from the living room, and the living room is just big enough for my fluffy green couch, where I read. I have a TV hooked up on a stand across the room, but I don’t normally watch it, since I read so much all the time.
“I was reading. I like it quiet when I read.” I do like it quiet when I read, but from time to time, I’ll play music, especially if an author I love has a playlist attached to their book.
“You’re always reading.” She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling then drops them back down to me, getting an odd light in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. “So you left with Gareth last night.”
Holy crap, she knows. My fingers clench around the cold cup I’m holding, making the ice clink together. Of course she knows. I told Uncle Trevor who my ride was when he asked, and he obviously told her. “Umm....”
“Seriously, I hope you got his number,” she states before taking a long sip from her iced coffee.
I sit there slack-jawed, wondering if she’s saying I should have gotten his number for her. What the heck? “Why would I do that?” I try to keep the annoyance out of my tone but know it’s there.
“Uh, because he was totally into you.”
“What?”
“He didn’t take his eyes off you all night. Seriously, the Queen of England could have started doing the hand jive on the dance floor and he still wouldn’t have spared her a glance.”
“What?” I repeat in utter disbelief. I can’t believe Gareth was paying that much attention to me. More so, I can’t believe she’s telling me I should have went for him after what she said about wanting him.
“He was obviously into you.” She shrugs.
My mouth opens and closes before I blurt, “You said you wanted hi—”
She waves her hand out between us, cutting me off. “He’s hot. Any woman alive would want him. I might think he’s attractive, but he’s not my type, and he’s definitely not interested in me.”
“I—”
“So did you get his number?” she cuts me off once more, and I jerk my head from side to side. I didn’t get his number. Not only that, but I snuck out on him just a few hours ago. “Did he offer it to you?” She frowns.
“I thought you wanted him.” God, I’m an idiot. I snuck out of his bed, out of his house, thinking