Page 67 of While You Were Trending

The stone building where the wedding was hosted the other day smells like baking bread, and to my utter surprise, Ginny and the flower girl from the wedding are there.

“—take you back to your dad so he can get you to school,” Ginny’s saying to the little girl as she squats at her level.

Flow barks once, making Ginny’s head whip around toward us, and then my fluffy, seventy-pound dog bolts.

It’s not a soft gallop or a leisurely trot.

It’s a full-on lightning bolt, zero to sixty, jerking her leash out of my hand because she’s caught me so off-guard.

She leaps onto Ginny, who falls over sideways, Flow all over her, tail wagging, paws prancing in place as she licks Ginny’s face, and the little girl she was talking to backs away, pulling a face like she doesn’t like dogs.

“Flow. Off.” I dart across the room too, the muffled noises coming from Ginny making my heart race.

My dog ignores me.

I’m reaching for her collar when I realize Ginny isn’t freaking out—she’s laughing.

Laughing and taking kisses and rubbing her hands all over my dog’s fluffy black and tan and white fur.

Flow’s all over Ginny like she’s a plate of lemon cookies.

“Oh, I missed you, you sweet thing,” she says.

I have to clear my throat and look away.

My dick does too.

Shade slides me a look that I actively ignore.

I might like the guy, but he sees too much.

Joke’s on him. Joke’s on Mabel too.

I bared my soul last night.

Ginny knows now.

She knows the biggest secret of my life.

We aired things out.

And now we’re—fuck.

I don’t know what we are.

But I don’t hate watching her love all over my dog.

“Who’s the prettiest girl?” Ginny says. “Flow’s the prettiest girl. Look at you! Did you just get a haircut? Are you still afraid of the garbage truck? And do you still know how to do a celly?”

Flow leaps off Ginny, going up on her back legs and dancing around like she’s trying to grab a treat off of a string being dangled over her head just out of reach.

Ginny’s still laughing as she sits up, rubbing her elbow. “Youdo! Such a good girl.”

“Dogs are dumb,” Lavender, the brown-and-green-haired, hazel-eyed little girl who’s been watching us like we’re all nuts, says. I met her when she was the flower girl at the wedding. “Cats are better.”

“Some people like dogs, and some people like cats, and some people like all of them,” Ginny replies. “It’s okay to like cats, but that doesn’t make all dogs dumb.”

“Yes, it does” Lavender says.