4. Crochet Lingerie
Skye
“And that is how I’ve ruined everything,” I finish recapping the day for Anna as she continues to bustle around our tiny kitchen. “Tatum seemed pretty chill about it, but I don’t know…what do you think?”
“I think I read Abuela’s recipe wrong,” she huffs, squinting at the index card her grandma gave her. “Why does she have to have such perfect cursive penmanship?”
Tonight is the third time this month that Anna is trying to make some kind of Puerto Rican dish for dinner because she wants to embrace her Boricua -side more. Unfortunately, though—and I love her like crazy, so I don’t mean this as a diss—Anna isn’t the greatest cook to begin with.
Two weeks ago, half of the chicken she made was drier than the conversation I had on my date with Collin. Which is saying a lot, because I started to fall asleep at the park as he droned on and on about the allergy medicine he likes to use while we were walking around. I almost rammed straight into a tree from my eyes wanting to slide shut. And frankly? That was the most exciting part of the date.
“If Tatum says you’re good, then you’re good,” Anna drawls, setting the index card aside. “You guys have an honest friendship, right? You don’t lie to each other or anything like that. I think you’re overthinking it, Skye.” Her light eyebrows crease. “Which is weird, because you usually don’t overthink anything.”
She’s not wrong. Blurting out that I’m engaged is the perfect example of my quick thinking .
“Lying to Zoya is pretty risky though,” Anna continues, blinking her wide brown eyes at me. “I mean, I get it, kind of, but what if you end up getting you-know-what?”
Fired . I appreciate her not saying the dreaded word out loud, but it’s definitely an unfortunate possibility.
“I know, I know,” I sigh, playing with the pink ends of my hair. “That’s why I have to prove I’m the right person for Cynthia’s position, so no matter what happens, Zoya will realize I’m an essential part of the company.”
Anna’s lips quirk to the side. “For the sake of making this ‘engagement’ seem more real, can I be your bridesmaid? Please, please, please ! I know Dria will be your maid-of-honor, but I promise that I will be the BEST bridesmaid ever!”
“Oh crap,” I say, smacking a hand to my forehead, “how the heck am I going to explain this to Dria?”
Dria, whose full name is actually Adrianna , but only our parents call her that, is my older sister. She’s my only sibling, and we’re super close despite her being almost six years older than me.
There’s NO way I’d be able to keep this from her.
From Mom and Dad? Yes, especially since they’re on some kind of “tech free, unplugged, off-the-grid” romantic getaway right now.
But Dria is too intuitive.
So, I have to tell her what I did, and hopefully I’ll survive the verbal beatdown she’s going to dish out.
“Was that a yes then?” Anna looks at me expectantly. “I can be your fake bridesmaid?”
“Sure thing, Anna,” I reply with little enthusiasm. “Your first duty as my fake bridesmaid is to help me figure out the best way to tell Dria.”
“First off,” she says, a huge grin on her face, “I am honored to be your fake bridesmaid. Thank you for that.” Her expression then turns serious. “And secondly, I’ll act like Dria, that way you can practice what you’re going to say to her.”
It’s going to be a little hard to see Anna as Dria, considering my sister definitely doesn’t have Anna’s mass of brown curls. Plus, Anna is a shorty at 5’1” compared to Dria’s 5’7”. But I’m willing to try and look past those two major differences.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
“So, Skye,” she begins, giving me a quick wink, “my little sister .”
And here we go…
Also, I feel like I should mention that Anna is a year younger than me.
“What’s up? What did you want to tell me?”
I start to reply when Anna whispers, “How am I doing?”
It’s a good thing she’s into crocheting rather than acting.
“You’re fine,” I whisper back before clearing my throat. “Well, Dria —” Anna points to herself with a nod. “—something kind of happened at work.”
Anna proceeds to let out an exaggerated gasp as she places a hand to her chest. “You got the promotion?!”
Ouch. She’s not far off though, Dria probably would assume I got Cynthia’s position.
“Uh, not exactly? I mean, I might get it, if everything goes well with me temporarily running The Donut Blog, and if Zoya doesn’t find out that I lied to her about having a fiancé because I needed a good reason for being distracted at work .”
Anna blinks. “Are you really going to say it like that? All fast and jumbled?”
Oh, she noticed.
“I don’t know,” I grumble, dragging a finger across the kitchen counter. “It’s just…this isn’t something I’m proud of, ya know? Lying to get the job I want? It’s not me. But at the same time, I can’t tell Zoya the truth. That’ll just make things worse.”
“Ooh, you should take Dria some donuts! Bad news is always better when it’s paired with dessert.”
She has a point.
While Tatum and I are hanging out tomorrow, I can grab some donuts—from Dovell Donuts, of course, where else?—and then swing by Dria and Trey’s house. Trey being my brother-in-law of five years.
“Oh my gosh!” Anna exclaims, an excited look on her face. “I’m going to find something wedding-themed to crochet for you! How. Fun. I need my phone!”
She darts out of the kitchen and heads straight to her room.
“Anna!” I call after her. “What about dinner?”
I’m not sure, but I think I hear her cuss in Spanish. She’s also trying to add more Spanish words and phrases into her everyday life. Yesterday, for example, she was complaining about a customer from the store, and ended up calling him something like toe-bread . And to be honest? I’m still not sure what she was actually trying to say.
I don’t even know if she knows.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” she hollers back from her room. “I’ll be right there!”
“Anna!” I yell again. “You’re not going to crochet something weird, right?”
“Define weird ! Because if you mean crochet lingerie—DO. NOT. WORRY.—I’m ignoring those patterns!”
I think I’m going to be sick…
“Oh my gosh, Skye! Someone crocheted a cute engagement ring box! Ooh, or would you rather have matching Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs pillows? Should I look for something with donuts? What about bride and groom teddy bears! There are so many options, how am I going to choose?”
We BOTH know she doesn’t need to crochet anything—because there isn’t a wedding—but if she wants to do it, I won’t be able to stop her.
If anything, whatever she decides to make will probably help me remember that I’m supposed to be engaged.
A sudden gasp comes from Anna’s room, followed by cursing, in English this time, and I raise an eyebrow before walking over there.
“You good?” I ask, resting my back against her door frame. “That didn’t sound like an oh-my-gosh-more-cute-crochet-stuff reaction.”
“It wasn’t,” she says, her eyes glued to her phone, “Asher just snapped a story pic of him and Matt. Ugh, Matty looks sooooo hot!”
Asher is Anna’s older brother, and Matt would be Asher’s best friend.
Aka: the guy Anna has a Godzilla-sized crush on. But even after all this time, Matt still hasn’t shown any signs of being interested, and it doesn’t seem like he ever will.
Does that stop Anna from wanting him? Absolutely not.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to ask if Matt can fix Tatum’s doorbell?” she asks, looking at me expectantly. “He is a handyman, after all. Fixing stuff is what he does for a living.”
She’s been trying this angle for about a week now, and I keep telling her no because I don’t want her to embarrass herself, yet again.
I’m trying to be a good friend and roommate.
Her eyes turn hopeful, and I try not to cringe at the sight. I almost feel like I should just tell her yes .
While I debate about what I’m going to say, my phone rings inside the pocket of my donut-printed pajama shorts.
Don’t judge me. Or should I say donut judge me!
Ha. At least I have the option to become a comedian if I lose my job, am I right?
When I pull my phone out to see who it is, Zoya’s name is on the screen.
ZOYA.
ZOYA IS CALLING ME.
ZOYA MY BOSS IS CALLING ME.
Oh no. She knows the truth. Somehow, she realized that I lied. She has some kind of secret sixth sense and figured it out. Or maybe she’s just calling about the blog?
As if.
I’m not that lucky.
“Skyeeee!”
I hold back an eye-roll at Anna’s whiny tone as I wiggle my phone in the air. “It’s Zoya. I have to take this. We’ll talk about Matt afterward, okay?”
Unless I conveniently forget. Oops.
I don’t wait for a response as I go into the living room and answer the phone. “Hey, Zoya. What’s up?”
I’m cool, calm, and—
“I just had an amazing idea!” she exclaims, sounding even more giddy than earlier today. How is that even possible? “You know how we’re having our monthly office appreciation brunch on Sunday? You should bring Tatum! I’d really love to meet him!”
I’m cool, calm, and DEAD AGAIN.
This was not —in any possible freaking way—supposed to happen. And people from the office bring a significant other or a family member all the time, so I can’t even use “it’s only for employees though” as an excuse.
This sucks so baddddd.
I look to my Aragorn poster for a way out of this, but he’s giving me the silent treatment.
Typical.
“Skye? Skye, you still there? What do you think?” She lets out a little laugh. “Tatum does like donuts, right?”
I can’t believe this is happening. I’m screwed.
I rub my forehead with my free hand, a few curse words begging to slip out. “Tatum loves donuts. Absolutely.” Which is true. Not as much as me, of course, but he’s always wanting me to bring him freebies. “And I’m sure he’d love to come on Sunday.”
If there’s a competition for “world’s worst best friend,” I think I’m winning it.