Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Sayla
“Hiya, stranger!”
I prop my phone on the Adirondack chair across from me so I can talk to Loren hands-free. Nobody brings out the nonverbal gestures in me quite like she does. And I’ve got a whole lot of gesturing from the past day locked and loaded.
“I think this is the longest I’ve gone without seeing you in years,” she says. Her hair is down around her shoulders, looking extra red against the whiteboard background. “Please never go away again. Staff development is miserable without you.”
“So what’s happening there?”
“Oh, you know the usual.” She sighs. “Day two of endless lectures and presentations. Wilford just showed us the same video on sexual harassment we have to watch every year. We’re on a break now, so I’m hiding out in my classroom.” She puts on a pretend pout. “I hate that you’re not here.”
“I’m sorry.” I poke my lip out to match hers. “I thought maybe hanging out with Bridger would’ve made things a little easier on you.”
“It does, and that’s the problem.” She wrinkles her nose. “I feel so guilty.”
“Why?”
“He’s just such a nice guy. And he makes me laugh. And …” Her voice trails off.
“And you have a fiancé.”
“Exactly,” she groans.
“Loren Cane.” I level her with a stare. “I’ve never met anyone more devoted and faithful to her man than you are. Foster trusts you. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I’m not worried about Foster,” she says. “It’s Bridger.” She grimaces. “I don’t want to lead him on.”
“Ahh. I see.” I glance at the cabin door just to be sure it’s shut. “The thing is, you can’t control how anyone else feels, although you’re sweet to try. And that’s very on brand for you.”
“It’s pretty much programmed into my DNA.” She furrows her brow. “And now I sound all science-y. I’ve definitely been around Bridger too much.”
“Maybe you just need to keep your distance for a little while.”
“Hence me hiding in my classroom.” She presses a smile onto her face. “Anyway, enough about things here. How’s the retreat? Are you completely miserable, too?”
“Not as miserable as you might think,” I admit. “Especially since Dex and I got stuck sharing a cabin.”
Loren gapes, and her eyes are big blue beach balls. “I’m going to need so much more context than that.”
I fill her in on everything that’s happened since we arrived, beginning with the mix-up on my name tag and ending with me catching Dex fresh from the shower.
As much as I’m dying to talk about his tattoos, I skip that part because he asked me to. Finally, I peek at the cabin next door, then lower my voice to tell her all about the Victoria/Tori situation.
“Wait.” Loren snorts. “So that poor girl actually believes you and Dex are dating?”
“Shhh.” I glance at Tori’s cabin again.
“And he’s going along with the story?”
“Yup,” I say softly.
“Wow.” Loren nods, almost like she’s impressed. “So you two are really making progress there. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you might actually be getting friendly.”
“Ha! Let’s not go crazy.” I smirk. “My ultimate goal is still to beat the man in every way possible.”
“Uh-huh. And I totally believe you.” She wags her brows. “But you know, according to every romcom movie ever made, a fake relationship lands you on the roller coaster to a real love.”
“Bite your tongue!” I feign a glare because I know she’s only teasing. “If Colleen Kroft has taught me anything, it’s that romance equals catastrophe. You and Foster are the only exceptions.”
“Clearly,” she says. “But would falling for somebody someday really be so awful?” She hitches her shoulders. “I mean, not Dex. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“But if you take him out of the equation, do you have to be such a love hater?”
“I’m not a love hater. I simply choose sanity.”
“I don’t know, Say.” She crinkles her nose. “I get that you’re mostly joking, but if you keep yourself locked away in an ivory tower of ‘don’t come near me,’ you might end up a little—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—lonely.”
I groan. “I told you not to say it.”
“Whoops.” She sends me a small smile. “But someone had to.”
“That’s debatable,” I quip. “And anyway, I’ll never be lonely. I have you.”
“True. But … we don’t make out.”
“Also true.”
“And I’m going to be moving in with Foster next summer after the wedding, remember?”
I frown. “I’m the maid of honor. How could I forget?”
“Right.” She’s quiet for a moment, and something passes behind her eyes.
“What?”
“Can we stop being silly for a minute?”
“Sure,” I say, my voice wary. “If we absolutely have to.”
“It’s just that you work so hard for other people, Say, but then you keep everyone else at arm’s length. You play the hero—the protector, the mentor—because no one did that for you. It’s like you want to be the safety net you never had.”
“Yikes. Did you have that speech prepared already? Like as a model of a persuasive essay for freshman comp?”
“I’m just saying.” She takes a beat. “Maybe it’s time for you to start thinking about finding your own safety net.”
“I don’t need one.” I tilt my head. “I just stay off the high wire.”
“See, but that’s the problem,” she protests. “The walls you’ve built are so high, there are practically clouds around your metaphorical turrets.”
“Metaphorical turrets?” I chuckle. “Man. You’re such an English teacher.”
“And you’re a hotel with a big flashing neon sign that says NO VACANCY.”
“Lovely.” I grimace. “Now you’ve got me thinking about all the trashy motels and motor lodges we used to stay in every time my mom pulled up stakes and moved us to a new town. I can almost smell the chlorine from the public pool. My hair always turned green. It was the worst.”
Loren frowns. “So think about a classy hotel. You know. With free Wi-Fi, a continental breakfast, and a hot tub.”
“Public hot tubs? No, thank you.” I press out a laugh as the cabin door opens. Then the screen. Then Dex emerges.
“Heading to breakfast,” he says.
“Save some pancakes for me.”
“Will do.”
As he crosses the porch, I aim my fingers at him. “Pew-pew!”
“All right.” He hoists a brow, then trots down the stairs.
I watch him jog off toward the mess hall. When he’s out of earshot, I look at Loren and moan. “Uggggh. Please tell me I did not just shoot finger guns at Dexter Michaels.”
“You did not just shoot finger guns at Dexter Michaels.”
“Liar.”
“Yes. I am.”
“What is even happening to me?”
“I think you’re opening up a little, and that scares you. You’re freaking out and acting all weird because you haven’t felt like this before. And maybe that’s what you’ve been hiding from all along.”
“What?”
She bites down her lip. “Feelings for—”
“Don’t say it.”
“—Dex.”
“You know, you haven’t been a very good listener this morning,” I say.
“Maybe not, but I am a good friend, and I love you, and we’re going to get through this.”
“Get through what?”
She flashes me a smile. “Your crush on Dexter.”
“I don’t have a crush on him. I can’t have a crush on him. I have to stay strong. He’s probably only being nice to me because he thinks I’ll cave and let him have the FRIG. But he’s wrong. Dead wrong.”
She guffaws. “Okay, Sheriff. Calm down. Everything’s gonna be okay.”
“You think so?”
“Just tighten up that ponytail, put on your big girl cargo pants, and remember who you are.”
“I am Sayla Kroft!”
“Yeah, girl,” she hoots. “The finger gun-toting baddie of Stony Peak High!”
“Ummm … I think my catchphrase is gonna need some work.”
We spend another minute or so cackling over other ridiculous nicknames for me. Then I end the call with just enough time to grab a clipboard in case I need it for any activities after breakfast.
As I shove my phone in my pocket, my stomach grumbles just thinking about the pancakes.
Wait, no. That’s my phone vibrating. A text from my mother.
Mom
Hey baby. You busy?
I’m not really feeling a text exchange with her, especially not after all that love talk with Loren, but I guess now is as good a time as any to respond since I’ll be busy the rest of the day with retreat stuff.
Me
Soon. What’s up?
Mom
How do you feel about December 25th?
Me
Christmas? Big fan.
Mom
I meant for the wedding.
Ah. Right. Leave it to my mother to turn Jesus’s birthday into a party for herself.
Mom
You know I’ve always dreamed of a Christmas wedding.
Me
This is the first I’ve heard of that. Brand-new information.
Mom
Well, the restaurant will be closed that day, and my manager said we could have the ceremony and reception right here for FREE.
And since the place will already be decorated, we’ll also save money on flowers and lights.
Plus if we get married on Christmas, Eugene won’t forget our anniversary. Probably.
Me
How romantic.
Mom
Your sarcasm is not appreciated.
Me
If you do get married on Christmas, I’ll be there, Mom.
Mom
What do you mean IF I get married?
Me
Sorry. I mean when you get married. Just please don’t pick an ugly maid of honor dress.
Mom
Is there any other kind?
Me
Good point. Thanks for the reminder never to get married.
Mom
You say that now, but wait until you fall in love, baby. You’ll sing a different tune.
Me
I’m sure you’re right.
This is what I text. But in my head, I’m thinking the list of tunes from my mom’s love life would make the longest playlist in history.
Me
Anyway, I’ve gotta go now. Work stuff.
Mom
You and your work. I wish you’d try to have a little more fun in your life, baby. Stop taking everything so seriously. Open up. Go on a date, for heaven’s sake.
Me
Good talk, Mom.
Mom
We’re texting.
Me
I meant thanks for the advice.
Mom
Oh. That. Well, you’re welcome. I love you, baby.
Me
Love you too.
On the way to the mess hall, clipboard in tow, I erase Loren’s FaceTime from my mind and focus on the text thread with my mom. She wants a Christmas wedding because it’s economically frugal and the anniversary date will be memorable?
No wonder I have trouble believing in real romance. Still, I do believe in lists. And being on time. And breakfast. That’s all the faith I need right now.
Merry pancakes.
Ho, ho, ho.