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Crushing on My Bro’s BFF and Current Roommate (aka Chelsea)
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From: [email protected]
Chelsea,
First up, I owe you an apology. And an explanation.
Chase has had feelings for Harper (yes, your camping guide) for as long as I can remember. She’s one of my best friends, and had some real mental blocks to her feelings for him. And, as the kind of friend who can’t help but butt in, I tried to help her get over these blocks by setting Chase up with other people.
Before you get too mad at me, it’s essentially the same advice I gave you. The way I saw it, dating other people would either help Harper see what she was about to lose OR help Chase meet someone to help him get over her.
I hope you’re not angry! I’d understand if you are. I probably deserve it.
Also, maybe your brother and I might get along. (As friends—I have a boyfriend I hope will soon be a fiancé.) Your brother and I both seem to have the overbearing gene when it comes to people we care about.
In any case, sorry that you ended up having such a hard time on the camping trip! That was NOT my plan. I never would have set you up on a date with him if I knew you’d be camping with him and Harper.
If you’re still reading and not angry with me, here are my thoughts on Mason. If you’re living together, it definitely gives you more of a chance to look for signs. You can also look for changes in how he treats you. The Christmas tree decorating sure sounds promising!
Will you keep me posted? That is … if you forgive me.
Thanks,
Sam
PS- Also, if you’re NOT mad at me, do you have New Year’s plans? I’ve got invites to a fancy party and I’d love for you to come. Maybe with Mason???
CHAPTER7
Chelsea
The second Marysits down across from me at our favorite Italian restaurant, I know the two other showers I took this afternoon didn’t work. “Seriously?” I groan.
“What?”
I point at her nose, which is still slightly crinkled. “You can still smell the skunk.”
“Just the tiniest bit.” I must be making a face because she throws her head back and laughs, dark hair spilling around her shoulders. “Stop looking at me like that! It’s not my fault you tried to adopt a skunk.”
“I tried to pet it—not adopt it. There’s a difference.”
“Both are bad ideas, and both are things only you would do.”
I pick up my menu, suddenly starving. “Let’s put a moratorium on skunk-related conversation and my weirdness, please. I need pasta, and I need it yesterday.”
“Are you going to tell me why you called this emergency dinner?” Mary asks.
“Food first. Then, if you’re nice and promise not to mention a certain mammal again, maybe I’ll tell you.”
We give the waitress our orders. Before I even butter my first breadstick, I blurt out, “John made a fake profile for me on a dating app and Mason bought me a Christmas tree and wants to decorate it with me tonight.”
Mary just blinks at me. Then waves our waitress back over. “On second thought, I’ll take a glass of your house red.” Leaning forward, Mary says, “Details, please. And leave nothing out.”
We’re still discussing John and haven’t even gotten to Mason and the Christmas tree when I finish the last of my alfredo.
