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“Someone’s jealous.”
I roll my eyes. “He’s not jealous.”
Jenny shoots me a dubious look through the phone screen. “Bryce doesn’t want fish boy taking you out. That sounds like jealousy to me.”
I flop back onto my bed with a groan. “I don’t get him.”
“It’s simple.” She takes a bite of her apple. “He doesn’t want anyone else to have you, but he’s too chicken shit to make a move on you. The question is: Do you want him to make a move on you?”
My mouth flaps open and closed. “I ... well ...”
“That’s a yes.”
“No. It’s an I don’t know.” I rub my forehead. “It would make everything awkward between us—even more than it already has been.”
“Maybe it’ll break the tension.”
“So, what then? We kiss? One kiss leads to more.” I shake my head. “And I’m only here for a couple of months.”
Jenny shrugs. “Sounds perfect. Have a summer fling, and live in the moment. Enjoy your time together for as long as it lasts.”
“I don’t know if I’m capable of no-strings-attached. I don’t think I could be intimate with someone I just met, and then never see him again.” My mind drifts to thoughts of my father. “You know, I’ve always wondered how my dad could just leave us like that. He had a family. How could he let go, and never look back? Like we meant nothing to him.”
Like I meant nothing to him.
“You don’t know that he’s never looked back. Maybe he regrets it. Or maybe he’s still an addict, and his brain is all sorts of messed up.”
My eyes follow the slow turn of the ceiling fan. “Why do I still think about him?”
“Because you never got closure. Because he’s your father. Because you don’t understand what happened.”
“Well, I’m done with it.” I peel myself out of bed. “I want to spend my time thinking about happy things, like my bucket list.”
Her bottom lip juts out. “I’m jealous. I want to help you with your list.”
“You’re coming with me to see Taylor Swift when her tickets go on sale.”
“Deal.” She takes one last bite of the apple. “All right. Gotta go, babe. Fifty bucks says your roommate makes a move on you within the next week.”
I choke out a laugh. “No way.”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Fifty bucks.”
“I thought you had to go.”
“You’re scared of losing your money.”
I stick out my tongue, and end the call.
It’s Bryce’s turn in the kitchen tonight, but I’m cooking to thank him for agreeing to help me with my bucket list. Beatrice helped me devise a plan earlier to keep him out—one he’s not too happy with when he bursts through the kitchen door.
“What are you doing?”
I glance over my shoulder. “Cooking.”
He rolls his lips together, and breathes out through his nose like a bull. “I can see that. Why are you cooking?”
“Because people need to eat.”
