Chapter 19
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Dawson
I let out a long breath, ignoring all my cousins’ outbursts as I reach for my phone to see if she’s messaged me.
These chats are the only crumbs I get from her, and like a mouse, I gobble them up.
DoesMyBreathStink60: Did you see that the Assassins are number one?
AmbrosiaMercer: I did, but so are the Panthers.
DoesMyBreathStink60: You live in Tennessee. Convert.
AmbrosiaMercer: Never.
I can’t fight my grin. She’s so stubborn.
“Oh my goodness, he’s gone for her.”
I look up to find everyone watching me, Ashlyn studying me like I’m a science project.
Fuck knows, I feel like one. While I want this, and I will get a chance to make Ambrosia mine, it does feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
Every time I get excited or all sugary thinking of her, I’m like, is this really me?
I don’t check my phone for texts. I have never ignored girls on my Instagram or Snapchat, but not only have I done just that, but I blocked everyone I’ve been through and then set all my accounts to private.
I am doing everything I never thought I would.
For her.
Louis snorts as he nods toward the papers. “So much so. Now, keep folding flowers for the girl who doesn’t want him and will probably burn them in front of him.”
Shit. I hadn’t thought of that.
“Do you know her friends?” Charlotte asks, and I shake my head.
“I don’t know that she hangs with anyone. At least, when I ask, no one seems to know her,” I say, looking down at my phone.
“Too bad. You could ask them if you’re wasting your time.”
I’m not, but I grin anyway. “Wanna befriend her?”
“No way. When you get what you want, you’ll drop her like a bad habit.”
I make a face. “No, I won’t.” They all give me a look, and I hate how it makes me feel. “You just said I’m growing, and I am. I don’t want her only to have her once.”
Louis blinks, and it annoys me that even he’s surprised by my proclamation. “For real, for real?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah,” I say softly. “She’s a game changer for me.”
Louis looks at Charlotte and Ashlyn, who are looking back at him. “You two have got to befriend her. We gotta help this dude out.”
“Yeah, he can’t do this on his own,” Jennings agrees, and that earns a round of laughter at my expense.
“This is it, gals. Lock in, get it done!”
I ignore them, looking back down at my phone.
Me: Do you have friends?
AmbrosiaMercer: What kind of question is that?
Me: A real one. When my friend asks about you, no one seems to know you.
AmbrosiaMercer: I thought we agreed that your friend wouldn’t ask about me anymore. That he would forget me.
Me: He said he can’t do that.
AmbrosiaMercer: Bless his heart, he must be running on dial-up.
I laugh so loudly that everyone jumps. I look up at my family and grin. “She’s fucking funny, you guys.”
“Yay!” Charlotte says as Ashlyn gives me a look.
“Is she making fun of you?”
“Shh, fold paper,” I say, waving her off.
Me: I can’t with you.
AmbrosiaMercer: Yet you keep messaging me.
Me: Like my friend, I find you really interesting.
AmbrosiaMercer: I’m not. I’m just a girl trying to get through life.
Me: I hear that. So, again, do you have friends?
AmbrosiaMercer: Not that it matters, but no.
AmbrosiaMercer: Don’t feel bad for me, though, I have my mom and tía.
AmbrosiaMercer: It’s not a big deal
AmbrosiaMercer: I keep to myself, and I enjoy that. No one to disappoint me.
AmbrosiaMercer: Ugh, why can’t I unsend that? That sounded so depressing! I’m not a saddie, I promise. I’m just a homebody, and being friends means I have to go places and socialize.
AmbrosiaMercer: I don’t even know why I admitted that.
I don’t either, but I’m glad she did.
Me: Man, I thought I was your friend.
AmbrosiaMercer: No, you’re my number one fan.
Me: I am.
Me: Which, by the way, I love my hat, stickers, and shirt.
AmbrosiaMercer: Photo or you’re lying.
Me: Are you asking me for a dick pic?
AmbrosiaMercer: WTF. No one said anything about your dick, you loser.
Me: But I put the sticker on there.
AmbrosiaMercer: One, is adhesive good for penis skin? Not that I’m worried about your penis skin, but maybe you should be.
AmbrosiaMercer: And two, I mean, maybe I’ll get more women listeners when you pull out your cock for them. Make sure the sticker is upright and they can read the URL.
I snort loudly, getting more looks. Once again, I ignore them and walk off to get my shirt since I’m already wearing the hat and have the sticker on my phone.
Okay, all together now—we listen and we don’t judge.
Me: Sorry. No free advertising here.
I grin when I realize I’ve stumped her. It doesn’t happen between us. She always has something to say, but the bubbles keep appearing and disappearing.
AmbrosiaMercer: As in you lied about the sticker on your cock?
Me: No. As in I haven’t been with anyone in a long while and don’t plan to be when I’m pining for someone else.
I’m coming out of my bedroom to ask Louis to take a photo of me when I hear my mom’s voice.
I bring in my brows just as she and my dad take me in.
Mom has a bottle of wine in her hand, and my dad is glaring at me as he looks at me.
“What in the hell? I knew she was lying when she said nothing was going on!”
All the eyes in the room move between us. “Huh?”
He points at me, taking in my bright-pink Rowe Report tee, which has a cartoon hockey player on it in the likeness of Rowe Mercer, holding a stick and a podcast mic in his gloves.
Taped to his chest is a piece of paper that reads The Rowe Report.
The hat has The Rowe Report in script, and the sticker is a puck with The Rowe Report written in the center of it.
Dad’s eyes crinkle at the sides as he shakes his head.
We spent the morning together, having brunch after heading to the farmers market.
Family time with all my family doesn’t happen often, but when it does, my cup gets filled.
Am I the butt of jokes? Yup. Do Mom and Dad spoil Jennings?
They do, and Louis and I hate it, but not really.
It’s all a joke. We love being together.
But not once did my dad bring up Ambrosia.
“When I talked to her, she told me nothing was going on between you two. But I should have known by the way she was defending you. And now you’re head-to-toe in Rowe Report.”
My mom is grinning, her eyes full of excitement. “I told you I saw something between them.”
“Yeah, Dawson making a fool of himself, and her thinking he’s dumb,” Dad supplies, but Mom smacks him playfully.
I ignore all that. “She was defending me?”
He waves me off. “It doesn’t matter. Just don’t hurt her, okay?”
“No, it does matter—” I try, but Mom cuts me off.
“She was upset that you were sitting.”
I feel like I grow ten inches across the chest by how I puff up. “She was?” I ask, and like I’m still a teenager going through puberty, my voice cracks. The was was way higher in pitch than it needed to be.
I smack my chest, but everyone is already laughing at my expense.
“Damn, he’s, like, really into her,” Ashlyn singsongs.
Not that I care.
Ambrosia defended me.
I knew she liked me!
“Are you coming with us?” Mom asks, and before I can ask where, my dad interrupts.
“Did she tell you we’re recording our episode today?”
“She sure did,” I lie. And listen, I’m not a fan of lying to my parents, but…yeah, I will for this.
“Ambrosia told you?” Dad asks, and I nod with more confidence than I have.
“Sure did. I was just about to leave,” I say, before I look over at Louis, who is slack-jawed, holding his vase with about fifty flowers in it.
I wanted to fill it with over one thousand since that’s how many podcast episodes exist, but that idea is scratched.
I’ll make her more later. Much to everyone’s surprise, since I asked them to stay all day and I was going to buy them dinner, I grab the vase from my brother and then look at my parents.
“But we weren’t finished yet—” Jennings tries, but I shake my head.
“This works. I’ll just ride with you guys.”
Mom gives me a look. “Good thing we stopped by for this wine that Louis picked up for us.”
I look back at my brother, and he winks. Man, I love that guy.
When Jennings goes to say something, I hit him with a dark look, shaking my head. “Thanks for the help, guys. I owe you.”
Louis shakes his head, and Jennings nods eagerly. Charlotte looks like a Disney princess with her hands up under her chin.
And Ashlyn, well… Of course, she has parting words. “Maybe when she sets those flowers on fire, you’ll catch the hint.”
I waggle my brows at her. “Nope. She’s gonna love them, and if not, I’ll have y’all over to make more.”
I ignore the hoots of laughter from the peanut gallery and especially the looks from my parents as I head out the door.
Because there will be some heat when I enter Ambrosia’s space, but not from her burning the flowers we made her.
At least, I hope not…