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“I had an overshare moment this morning. I told him I was engaged and then Ratface cheated on me and I broke it off. He acted like that was news to him.”
“Oh.”
“Honestly, I wish I could unsend the damn thing. Tequila’s the sole reason that email’s out in the universe.”
“No, uh-uh. The universe knows you’ve been in love with Cam Crawford practically your entire life. Breakingup with Ratface was a huge blessing—look who was delivered to your doorstep! It’s fate, Sloane.”
“Ssh,” I tsk, urging her to lower her voice at least two decibels. She gets high-pitched when she’s excited and that sound carries like you wouldn’t believe. “I agree that breaking up with Ratface was a blessing in disguise. However, Cam showing up is a coincidence. And he’s not interested, anyway. Did you miss the part about how he’s here to work with my dad, his coach?”
“Pish-posh. I’m sure he thinks you’re hot and would be more than happy to date you.”
“Highly doubt it, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” I sit back, checking my cell for any missed texts. Nothing.
“What’s the game plan? You going to ask about the email? Or just come right out and tell him how you feel?”
“No and no.” I tick both options off in the air with my index finger.
“What? C’mon, Sloane! You can’t piss away this golden opportunity. It’s your chance to get the guy!”
“Grace, you watch too many rom-coms. That doesn’t happen in real life. In real life, your ratface fiancé screws the secretary on his desk. In real life, a boring girl like me does not get the pro football player, the homecoming king, the town golden boy.”
“And why not?”
“Because I’m average. A plain Jane. Nothing special. Once you see Cam again, you’ll get it. He’s a ten and I’m about a five.”
“You’re selling yourself way short, Sloane. You’re at least an eight. Could be a ten with the glow-up we talked about last night at Mustang’s.”
“I love you, but you’re delulu. Fake lashes and blonde highlights will not make me a ten.”
“You’re wrong. Let me do it, please?” She folds her hands, begging. “Come into the salon and I’ll fix you up.”
“Maybe.” I twirl my ponytail, doubting Gracelyn’s assessment of the situation. “But back to the Cam thing—besides the fact that he dates beyond-gorgeous models, he’s really focused on football right now. He’s trying to get picked up by a new team—I don’t want to be a distraction.”
“Cam’s a big boy. He can decide if he wants to be distracted or not.” She folds her arms over her ample chest, head bobbing.
Grace does have a point. Although I’d feel awful if professional football didn’t work out for Cam. I know how much he wants it—has always wanted it—and there’s no way I would stand between him and the sport he loves.
“It’s Saturday. Invite him out tonight. There’s a bonfire at the lake. You two should come—unless you’d rather sit at home with your dad and talk running routes.”
Shoving the straw up and down in my cup, the plastic lid shrieks as I contemplate. I shake what’s left of the ice and it rattles against the plastic.
Damn, she has a bunch of good points today.
“Fine. I’ll ask if he wants to go. Fifty-fifty chance he’ll stay home with my dad, but I’m willing to take that risk.”
“Yes!” She raises her hand for a high-five and I humor her, slapping her open palm.
“Want me to give you a blowout for the occasion? I am a professional, after all. I think I have some lashes left over from last weekend’s prom, too.”
Gracelyn works with her mom at the only salon in town. She’s been doing my hair since we were little girls,but now she has a shiny beauty school diploma hanging on her wall declaring her state-licensed ability to do so.
“I’ll handle my hair, but thanks.”
“You know where I live if you change your mind.” Her cell buzzes, vibrating on the tabletop, and she quickly reads the text. “Sorry, babe, but I have to jet. Much as I’d love to sit around and chat about Cam all day, I promised my mom I’d help her with the Field wedding this afternoon. See you later?”
“Absolutely. Eight?”
“Yep, eight at the lake.”
