10. Conor #2
I stare around their backyard, which is littered with plastic toys.
A sandbox and paddling pool claim most of the prime real estate on the grass, but Pete and Mia have a great little bungalow.
Inside, there are baby gates, child locks, and foam protectors on every corner, but every time I’m here, I can’t get over how alive their place feels.
Bursting with life and possibility and love.
Though I’m excited to move into my new place, there’s a part of me that sometimes wishes I was twenty-two again, so it would be appropriate to live with roommates full time. Even before Jess came along, I enjoyed living at Aiden’s. It was nice not to come home to an empty house every night.
“Ahh!” Oliver demands, opening his mouth wide for more food. He’s sitting in his highchair between Pete and Mia, elbow deep in ground beef and ketchup. They share a tender glance over their son’s head.
It’s kind of cute (in a slightly sickening way) how in love they are after years of being in a relationship.
Pete’s that friend who has everything annoyingly together: wife he’s head over heels for, an awesome kid, boring job with some big, corporate company he actually likes.
He’s the best brother-in-law I could’ve asked for.
Me and Aiden used to rag on him for going home early on nights out, or skipping guys’ weekend trips. I used to think it was strange that he never cared that we bugged him, or that he was okay with missing out on so much.
Lately, I’m beginning to think that maybe I’m the one missing out.
“Can you pass the corn, please?” Jess nudges me.
She and I share a bench seat facing the happy family and, for a moment, it feels like I’m part of a different life entirely.
It’s such a cozy, domesticated moment—two couples and a toddler, cooking and eating and laughing together. Only Jess and I aren’t a couple.
Which I seem to keep forgetting.
So much for harmless flirting.
If Pete’s the one in our group with his crap together, I’m the bad friend… because I can’t get my best friend’s little sister out of my damn head.
I wonder if she’ll join us when we go to the bar later tonight.
Honestly, I’m kind of wishing it wasn’t Friday, and we could just stay here all evening instead of heading out with our whole friend group.
I didn’t like the way Luke looked at Jess last week.
Like he was on a strict, no sugar diet, and she was a vanilla cupcake with extra frosting and sprinkles.
“So, Conor, how’s the house?” Mia leans over the table and forks a few spears of grilled asparagus onto her plate.
“Which one?”
“Decatur.”
I sigh more heavily than I mean to, and her eyebrows shoot up. “That good, huh?”
This is the first flip that Mia hasn’t helped me with—Pete and I jointly put our foot (feet?) down and insisted she rest—but her eyes still light up every time we talk business.
I’m desperate to pick her brain, because, when it comes down to it, I’m better at building things than choosing mirrors and light fixtures.
But, I feel bad talking about work when she’s due to have her baby any day now.
The conversation should be about her and her family. Not me.
“Karla thinks I’m in the red on Decatur.
” I shrug, hoping to end flipping talk. But Mia gestures for me to go on, so I continue, “A lot of family homes have gone up lately, it’s a buyers’ market.
I’m two weeks behind on my own place, too, so Aiden’s saddled with me for a little longer.
” I smile at Jess, who’s watching the conversation with undisguised interest. “You are too, I guess.”
“I don’t mind,” she says. A little too quickly. Which makes her blush.
“What are you in the red for?” Pete asks, shoveling coleslaw into his mouth. Gag. I hate coleslaw.
I focus on the nasty, slimy stuff on Pete’s fork to keep from getting distracted by Jess’s cute pink cheeks. “The house has all these upgrades I spent money on, but nothing to set it apart. Karla thinks we need to go above and beyond to stage it.”
“How so?” Mia tilts her head.
“Karla’s thinking that we need something cool and edgy to drum up interest at the open house, get enough people to come through that it justifies the list price—try to appeal to a trendier buyer willing to pay a premium.
I don’t really want to invest in using a luxury staging company, so I’m a little stuck on what to do. ”
“Sometimes it's as simple as some good art and unique textures,” Mia says earnestly, adjusting her oversized glasses. She’s the epitome of the cool, trendy young mom we’re trying to appeal to, but I can’t ask to work with her right now.
“What about Jess?” Pete asks suddenly.
“Ooh, yes,” Mia chips in. “Jess is super artsy, she’d be a natural at staging.”
I whirl to look at her. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights.
Jess blushes wildly. “I know nothing about flipping houses.”
“Staging is only a part of flipping, it’s like the lipstick after the facial reconstruction,” Pete jokes.
Jess’s brown eyes are wide and wild, and my mind races as I consider Pete and Mia’s proposition. Jess did say that she studied Art History in college and then worked in a gallery. She could probably help with staging no problem. In any case, it would be better than anything I could do myself.
And if I hired her to do this for me, I could help her out. I know she’s been struggling to find a job.
And you’ll get to spend way more time with her, an annoying little voice in my head sings.
I know I said that I have to be careful not to spend too much time with Jess, but before I can stop myself, I’m speaking. “You know, I think hiring Jess is a really good idea, Pete.”
“You’d have so much fun with it, Jess,” Mia adds. “Conor has all the furniture and decorating stuff already—we’ve been collecting things for years. With your artsy eye, I’m sure you’ll make it look amazing. Conor has zero eye for style.”
“Hey!” I say. But, I don’t mean it. She’s right.
Jess shakes her head. “I couldn’t.”
I smile at her slowly. “Oh, but you definitely could.”
“Surely, there are people available who are actually qualified for the job,” Jess insists.
“I could teach you the basics.” I shrug, keeping my eyes trained on hers and silently willing her to step up to my challenge.
I know that this is a risk. That, if she’s not right for the job, it will blow my project. Bomb the open house that we so desperately need to go well to turn a profit. But somehow, I don’t seem to care right now.
“I couldn’t,” she repeats, her brows knitting together as she directs her gaze back on mine.
“Yes, you could,” I say again. I widen my eyes, daring her to look away. Because whoever looks away first loses.
An electric current passes between us and I can physically feel the sparks heating my body.
Buzz!
My phone vibrates on the table, and I’m startled out of the moment.
I look around to see Mia and Pete staring at us like someone hit pause—Pete has his fork half-raised to his mouth, Mia, her hand clapped over hers. Take a picture, it’ll last longer.
Then, Mia unfreezes and smiles a knowing, cat-like smile. I fix her with a glare before I sneak a glance at Jess, who looks as flushed and disoriented as I feel. What just happened between us?
Bewildered, I almost feel grateful that my phone was the distraction. I look at it and check the message.
Aiden: How’s everything going? I’ve been meaning to thank you for being so nice to Jess. She’s in a vulnerable spot right now, and she needs a friend.
I feel like a bucket of ice water has been thrown over me, extinguishing the fire I was stoking with reckless abandon.
That’ll teach me to feel anything close to sparks with my best buddy's sister.