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“Yeah.”
“He’s made you wait, what, a week?”
“Four days,” I admit.
Her index finger points at me like a magic wand she’s using to cast a spell. “You should flash some curves so he remembers what he’s been missing. That man needs to understand that every minute he makes you wait, you’re just getting hotter.”
I pause and blink because what? Who thinks like this? “You’re a little nuts, you know that?”
“The word you’re looking for is genius. Besides, if he’s not around, we should hang out. You need to be at least as cute as me.”
She isn’t wrong about her cuteness. Shawna is wearing a flowery peasant-style dress that’s loose along the body but short enough to expose most of her thighs. When she wears those knee-high boots, anyone beside her would look frumpy.
“Fine. Help me choose something.”
We settle on a light-blue cropped sweater with fitted dark jeans and ankle boots. The outfit inspires me to make an effort with my hair, fluffing it out of the ponytail and curling the ends that land above my breasts. Exaggerating my brows and lashes, I consider the perfect lip color.
“Now you’re stalling,” she says.
“I’m not. Lipstick matters.”
“He’ll just lick it off, Ana. Let’s go.”
We run down the stairs, giggling. Settling into her car feels like the beginning of an adventure. She’s right. Why the hell am I lying in bed and thinking about Bryce like a forlorn damsel? I am an almost-college woman with the means and the will to pursue whatever my heart desires.
Shawna is a great friend for many reasons. Reminding me to get what I want, when I want, is on top of that list.
“Thanks, Shawna,” I say as I buckle myself into the passenger seat. “You’re the best.”
“You’re welcome. You’d do the same for me,” she says as the car screeches out of the driveway.
“Ambush you at home till you get your ass in gear? Yup, anytime.”
“California is going to be the best!” She’s heading to UCLA while I’ve accepted a place at the California Institute of Technology.
“Let’s do this,” I mumble, mostly to myself.
Why am I so nervous? Despite what happened, Bryce isn’t a stranger. I’ve seen him countless times since I’ve moved to Columbus. All those past meetings never made me nervous.
Even as I say it, I recognize the lie.
Bryce has always stirred something in me. Not nervousness, exactly, but eagerness. To make an impression. To show off how much I know about our shared passion in robotics. The fact that my efforts were rejected or ignored never changed my need to be near him in some way.
“That’s his blue Jeep, isn’t it?” Shawna asks as we drive up his street. After checking the apartment building’s number and the license plate, I nod.
“He’s home,” she exclaims gleefully. “Are you ready? Want me to stick around?”
“Shouldn’t I call him first?”
“Calling him will ruin the surprise.”
“Am I the surprise in this scenario?” I ask, nervous sweat trickling down my back.
“You’re certainly dressed like one. Now go in there and show him what he’s been missing for four days.” Shawna stops the car and unceremoniously unlocks my door.
After a deep breath and a quick hug, I head to the building. Someone exits as I approach. Luckily, she lets me slip by. I walk down the hallway and stop at the front door of Bryce’s studio apartment.
My hand is fisted, ready to knock, when I hear voices from inside. Multiple ones, with at least one woman. Followed by the sound of glasses clinking in a cheer.
