Page 11 of Blue Line

He tilts his head, studying me in the dim light from the moon. “So why are we going? Why not say you can’t come when he texts you?”

I turn over his words in my head.

“Because it’ll seem as though I’m avoiding him. It’ll give him the wrong idea. That I haven’t moved on. That I’m still somehow hurt by our breakup.”

“Who the hell cares what he thinks?” I swallow, unsure of how to answer, but he saves me from having to by continuing to speak. “Fuck ’im.”

I snort. “Done that. Wasn’t that great.”

He wrinkles his nose, grimacing, and I can’t help but laugh.

Silence surrounds us, only interrupted by the buzzing of crickets, the occasional frog croaking, and the wind whispering through the trees. The quiet starts to lull me to sleep, and after I yawn for the fifth time in a row, I push my chair away from the table and get to my feet.

“I’m going to head to bed.”

“Good night.”

“Night.” I grab my empty bottle and turn toward the back door, reenter the sleeping house, and make my way upstairs to my room.

“Hiya.” Callie, my best friend, answers on the first ring when I call her a few days later. “How’s it going?”

“Hey, Cal. Welll …” I drawl, lying down on my unmade bed.

“What happened?”

“I ran into Henry at the grocery store earlier this week. He was with his new fiancée. I may have told them I was engaged to one of my brother’s teammates. And now I’ve roped one of Holt’s best friends into being my fake fiancé and going with me to his engagement party tomorrow night.” The words come out in a rush, and I don’t even know if they made sense.

There’s silence for a few seconds, and I start to repeat what I said, except slower, when she says, “Noo you didn’t.”

“I did, Callie,” I whine. “I did. It wasn’t my finest moment. I panicked, and before I knew it, I was telling Henry I was engaged too and, well, all the rest.” I throw my hand up even though she can’t see me.

“Leave it to you to do something like that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just one night, right?”

“Yes.”

“Which friend of Holt’s?”

“Weston Reynolds.”

“HADLEY. No, you didn’t. Shit, girl. Why didn’t you lead with that?”

I put my hand over my face. “Because it’s a disaster. And it’s fake.”

“But maybe it’ll lead to something more.”

I groan.

I seriously regret spilling my secret crush on Weston to her after one too many glasses of wine. Do I still have a crush on him? I do. But that’s all it’ll ever be. I don’t stand a chance of dating someone like Weston. He deserves a partner who has their act together and knows what they want to do with their life, not me, an unemployed photographer who is starting to question her career choice.

“Stopppp,” I whine. “Please don’t.”

She laughs. The bitch fucking laughs, and if she wasn’t my best friend and I didn’t love her like a sister, I would hang up the phone and never speak to her again. Fine, I’d speak to her again, but it would take me a few days. Instead, I grab the other pillow from the bed and pull it over my face.

“Are you hiding under the covers?” she asks, having seen me dive under my blanket before when she’s called me out on something.