Chapter 15 #2
“Cut it out,” I snap at myself, which draws raised eyebrows from the girl who works nearest to me. I give her an apologetic wave and try to play it off—I talk to myself all the time! This is normal!
But when her eyes have gone back to her computer, my lips curl into a grimace.
I felt it. That was affection blooming inside of me—affection and gratitude. For Roman Drake. I definitely felt it.
I might even…miss him?
Absurd. I must be more tired than I realized.
Sure, he’s been good to me; in fact, I know perfectly well he’s gone out of his way to help me.
He gave me the job cleaning, he came with me to visit Tyler, he even let me attack his spare bedroom when I was about to explode into screams or tears or both.
He’s paying me a ridiculous amount of money, and he seems delighted to be doing so.
So the gratitude I understand. But affection?
“Ridiculous,” I breathe faintly. “He’s five years younger than you. You’re being ridiculous.” I shake my head, hoping that will clear out the cobwebs. Then I return to my work with only half of my brain functioning.
It’s at the end of the day that Bart interrupts me again. He looks more nervous when he approaches my desk this time, and his bowtie has skewed further to the right. I resist the urge to straighten it myself.
“What is it?” I say briskly. “I’m heading out soon.”
He clears his throat. “I talked to Bonnie.”
“Already?” It’s probably not flattering, how surprised I sound. “That was fast.”
He straightens up to his full, very average height.
“Yeah, well,” he says, his voice faintly petulant.
“Anyway. She wants us to do ten percent off the next subscription for anyone who signs up to be in the auction, but she also wants some of us to step in. She asked me for thoughts on anyone who might want to help, and I said that anyone without a significant other would be good.”
Oh, no.
Bart keeps yammering, but his words reach my ears in slow motion. “She asked if I had any thoughts—”
Oh, no, no, no.
“And naturally your name came up, since you’re not currently seeing anyone.
” Bart reaches up and straightens his bowtie, while I picture it tightening further and further until his whole head just pops off.
“So congratulations!” He puts on a hearty smile that’s just the tiniest bit smug.
“As of today, you are officially a participant in Soul2Soul’s first ever date auction. ”
“Oooh,” Juliet says later that evening, her eyes sparkling as they widen. “That sounds like so much fun!”
“Then you do it,” I grumble, and her nose wrinkles.
“You’re grumpy.”
I sigh, burying my head in the couch cushion. “Sorry,” I say. The word is muffled, but she understands.
“That’s okay,” she says primly. “Now give me more details, please.”
At the beginning of this conversation, I was sitting normally on the couch while Juliet sat on the floor eating a bowl of cereal.
Somehow the situation has devolved, because I’m now lying face-down, my body stretched the full length of the sofa, my head pressed into a cushion that has been sat on by who knows how many butts.
Juliet has put her cereal aside and now rubs my back soothingly.
“It’s going to be fine,” she says, because she’s a liar. “It’s going to be totally fine, Ror! You have like a week and a half to prepare mentally, and it’s not like you have to actually go out with the person who bids on you, do you? How does that work?”
I slowly turn my head so that my cheek is squished into the cushion instead of my nose and mouth.
“Our sponsors are providing free tickets or coupons or whatever to different places. Like restaurants or bowling alleys or museums. I guess you don’t have to go on the date, but we put a disclaimer in the sign-up form that you really should.
If they sign up, they’re acknowledging that barring special circumstances, they’re willing to participate in the whole thing—the auction and the following date. ”
From the kitchen comes the sound of the laundry room door opening and the faint rumble of the garage door; a few seconds later, India and Poppy enter the room.
“Hi, chickadees!” Poppy says. Her voice is cheerful, but by the time she’s reached me on the couch, her expression has twisted into something more concerned. “Oh, dear.”
“Aurora got volunteered for a date auction at work,” Juliet supplies.
Poppy’s dark, curly hair bounces as she looks back and forth between me and Jules. “A date auction?”
India frowns. “How did that happen?”
“It was Bart. He basically volunteered me.”
“And you said he was harmless,” India says, her eyes narrowing. “Turns out he’s a little rat man with little rat eyes—”
My snort of miserable laughter cuts her off, but then she changes tack.
“Want me to bid on you?” she says, slouching her way to the end of the couch and sitting directly on top of my feet. “Make sure no one weird gets you?”
“Oooh, me too!” Juliet says as a wide smile spreads over her face. She rises to her knees, bouncing a little. “Me too! We can pool our money! We could go bowling!”
“I like bowling,” Poppy says with a shrug.
It is so, so tempting to say yes.
“I’ll keep you updated,” I say, but my voice is dry.
Dry is better than horribly gloomy and filled with dread, though, which is where I was hovering ten minutes ago. The image of Juliet hefting a bowling ball is playing through my mind and making me smile, and I decide we should all go bowling anyway, because if they all like it, why not?
I want them to be happy. When they’re happy, that’s when I’m happiest too—even as I try to work my feet out from under India, who increases her pressure to keep them where they are.
“Indy!” I say with a strangled laugh, and she laughs too. A second later the weight is gone, and I scrunch my feet up to give her room; when she’s seated she pulls my legs back over her lap.
“What’s new with you, Pop?” Jules says, sprawling comfortably with her back against the couch and her feet crossed in front of her. “You’re never around anymore.”
“I’m not,” Poppy says, “but I’m almost done with school. So there’s that.”
“That’s so exciting!” Juliet says. “And then what? Do you have a job lined up?”
“Not yet,” she says, settling herself on the floor next to Jules. She crosses her legs and then uses both hands to wrangle her curly hair into a bun on top of her head. “But I’m working on it, and I’m hopeful.”
“Get something in Lucky!”
Poppy gives a dry laugh at this. “Lucky isn’t known for its abundance of PT offices.”
“Boo. But you’ll still come see us? You won’t be too busy for us after you’re a proper working woman?”
“Of course not,” Poppy says with another laugh. “You girlies are stuck with me forever.”
India and Juliet shoot each other looks, probably because we all wonder the same thing: What the heck is going on with Poppy and Cyrus?
They’re not a couple. They’re just best friends. But no other man or woman would be comfortable with that friendship. No woman is going to marry Cyrus when he’s so close to Poppy, and vice versa.
So in what capacity are we stuck with her forever?
Don’t get me wrong—I want Poppy to stick around. We all do. I don’t personally see how anyone could put up with Cyrus for a lifetime, but Poppy has managed so far; I don’t know how they aren’t together already or apart for good.
Because they seem to be walking a very fine line. Sooner or later they’re going to teeter into more than friends or less than friends, and I think we’re all worried about when that happens.
But it feels inevitable. I don’t see how they can go on like this indefinitely.
“Well,” Juliet says when the silence stretches on just a millisecond too long, “keep us updated! And if I see any cheap rentals on Main, I’ll let you know. We can split an office space down the middle and share rent. One half will be your own PT practice and the other will be my dance studio.”
“That does sound like a great setup,” Poppy says with a grin and a wistful sigh. Then she glances at Juliet’s bowl of cereal. “Can I get some of that? I’m hungry.”