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Larisa and Jo look at each other.
“Well, can I offer an explanation, then?” Jo says.
“Yes, please.”
“In my opinion, you’ve been sending him mixed signals.”
“What do you mean?” I sip some champagne. It’s surprisingly delicious, even though it has chunks of pink glitter floating around in it—probably to make it more enticing for the brides. Or more Instagrammable.
“Alright, so, here’s the thing,” Jo continues. “You’re best friends. And you have a marriage pact. Right?”
“Yeah,” I reply.
“Not too long ago, he asked you if you might want to honor the marriage pact—or, at least, he was curious if you ever thought about it. To which you said no—and assured him that you’ve never even looked at him … like that. You know what I mean?”
“Mhm,” I say, not sure that I like where this is going.
“Then, since you broke your arm and Evan started taking care of you, it seems that your friendship has entered new territory. From what it looks like on the outside, you two seem to be playing this cat-and-mouse game, both with your feelings and with … each other. In the sense that you’re hot and cold at the same time, do you know what I mean?”
“Like the Katy Perry song?” I ask.
Jo takes a deep breath like she’s dealing with a difficult student in class. Larisa just rolls her eyes.
“Emmy, after you told him that you’re not interested in honoring the marriage pact, you practically came on to him in the kitchen while he was cooking you pasta. It’s not that he didn’t notice. Of course, he did. He’s a man, after all—they have some kind of sixth sense about this.”
Larisa looks at Jo. “If she makes some kind of Bruce Willis joke here about that silly movie, I’m leaving.”
“You can’t leave. You’ve still got to try on wedding dresses,” Jo replies.
“Ah, yeah…”
“Who’s silly now?” I tell Larisa.
“Guys, alright. We’re getting off topic!” Jo reins us back in. “So, as I was saying, I’m pretty sure that Evan understood you wanted him at that moment but … I don’t think that’s what he wants. At least, not from you. I’m guessing he might’ve felt a little slighted that you only want … that from him, and nothing else.”
“Yeah, I mean, think about it, Emmy. How would you feel if a guy you truly liked only wanted … you know. To be physical?” Larisa adds.
“Umm, I never thought about it that way. Guys, look, I think you’re both reading far too much into this. What happened in the kitchen was a momentary thing. Plus, I don’t even think Evan is into me like that. I mean, he helped me get undressed when my shirt got stuck on my cast and he never made a move then either. So…”
Both Larisa and Jo get up and move away, starting to look at wedding dresses and accessories again.
“What? What did I say?”
“Nothing. It’s just that … you’re in denial, Em.”
“Denial about what?”
“It’s more than obvious that you like Evan. You might even love him. And I get that it scares you. It’s a big deal to do this after seventeen years of friendship, or however long it’s been. But it’s an even bigger deal to deny it continuously. How long are you going to do this?” Larisa asks.
“I’m not doing anything, guys! I think you’re just … you’re projecting some kind of fantasy onto me. Onto my relationship—I mean friendship—with Evan! I get that you both think friends-to-lovers is the superior romance trope, but nothing is happening! Yes, I had a moment in the kitchen in which I wanted to … suck his face off. But it’s probably just because I’ve been single for a long time. Or maybe it’s because he took off his T-shirt and he looks really good and tanned and fit and … I don’t know, I’m not made of stone!”
One of the ladies at the store passes by holding a dress on a coat hanger. She gives me a weird look but says nothing.
“Great. Now the women who work here know that I’m a lonely spinster!”
“Emmy, look. If that’s all there is to it, then what’s going to happen in the future?” Larisa asks me.
“What do you mean?”
