Chapter 22
Chapter
Twenty-Two
PEARL
S hould we…meet?
It had run in a loop in Pearl’s head.
For the last forty-eight excruciating hours.
She’d been a scared little nutsack—let’s be honest, those were way more fragile than pussies—and she’d ghosted Hemingway.
Straight up abandoned him after he’d asked the thing she’d been too scared to ask.
“Earth to Pearl.” Allison waved to get her attention. “These need four daisies. You’ve put in eight.” Allison pointed to the foam block in front of Pearl.
It was desperate times in Bloom with all the Parkers out; that was usually when they called in for Pearl’s help on arrangements. Luckily, though, these were fake flowers.
“Sorry,” Pearl said, ripping out the four extra daisies she’d mindlessly put into the foam centerpiece.
She’d been distracted, thinking about how fun dinner with Reed had been last night.
And how it conflicted with the gooey feelings for Hemingway that were blooming into very dangerous territory. Could she fall for a guy she’d never even met? She’d never even seen?
Was it really worth maybe getting murdered over?
Maybe Hemingway was an ogre.
Maybe he was one of those guys that wore shoes in the house.
Oh, no, what if it was worse?
What if he owns a Cybertruck?
“Are you a little distracted after your special dinner?” Allison said with an overly innocent smile, batting her eyelashes.
“What dinner?” Pearl said, not wanting to give anything away.
“Pearl and Reed, sitting in a tree. E-A-T-I-N…” Allison faltered. “...G, uh, crap. You get the idea,” she said, waving her hand. Her summer dress today made her look like a ’70s milkmaid, with long, billowing sleeves that were just a little short on her long arms.
Allison stood back up and stretched, pressing her lower back. “Ugh, this table was not made for people over five eight.”
Pearl pushed a stool toward her with her foot.
“Thanks, friend,” Allison said, sitting down.
Maybe she needed a friend’s opinion. She and Allison were friends, right? She’d held Allison’s hair back when she’d puked outside the Thirsty Beaver. That was prime friend territory.
“Okay, I need to swear you to secrecy.”
Allison dropped what she was doing and turned around eagerly. “I knew it. You’re dating him, right?” Allison said with vindication.
“What, no. Who?”
“Reed.”
Pearl waved her away. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Uh, you only spend every waking moment together. I always see you together. He makes you laugh?—”
“No, he doesn’t,” Pearl scoffed, lying.
”—and I have it on good authority that you had fun.”
Pearl rolled her eyes. Aaron was such a gossip. “This isn’t about Reed. I need to swear you to secrecy.”
“Alright,” Allison said, sobering. “What’s wrong?”
Pearl gulped. This is gonna sound so dumb. “I met a guy online.”
“The dopey love face guy you texted at the bar?” Allison scooted her stool closer. “Tell me more.”
“We’ve talked for months. He seems great. There’s like, only a three-percent chance I’ll end up a skin suit if I meet him in person. He’s asked to meet. I don’t want him to know where I live in case things go sideways, and AB’s here.”
Allison nodded, understanding. “And you want somebody to report the skin suit faster?” she said, pointing to herself.
“Exactly, you get it,” Pearl said, throwing her hands up. “I just need someone to know where I’m going, and it felt weird telling Reed. I would never tell Luca. He’s too overprotective.”
“Oh my gosh, does this mean we’re besties?” Allison said with a smile, pressing her hands to her face and looking like a goddamn Disney princess.
“Sure…” Pearl said, embarrassed. A little knot of sadness relaxed inside her, turning into a happy, warm glow.
Allison went back to the arrangements. “So where are you meeting him?”
“I was thinking maybe around Lake Erie where there’s a lot of vacation spots and I can still drive there. Maybe during the Fourth of July weekend?”
“Why don’t we carpool together, and I’ll be there in case it goes bad. I’m very tall, and I’m sure I can look menacing enough.”
Pearl snorted. Allison was tall but looked as menacing as a plate of strawberry shortcake. Her whimsical outfits full of plaid and lace and patterned cardigans with little fruits and birds didn’t scream intimidating .
“You’d do that?” Pearl said, finally looking Allison in the eye.
“Of course. We’re besties. Plus”—Allison patted her back—“I don’t have time to deliver all the flowers and make them if you get murdered.”
A little sparkly glimmer shone on her cold, black heart. I have a bestie . Pearl squashed the smile into pursed lips so it didn’t overtake her face.
Pearl looked back at her phone.
Hemingway_CanSuckIt
Look, there’s no pressure. I don’t want to weird you out.
I like our…relationship? Friendship?
As it is now.
I would never want to lose that.
She tugged on her lip, fingers shaking as she typed.
ImpossiblyBookish
situationship with benefits is more accurate.
….
i don’t want you to be disappointed…
She felt very exposed and vulnerable.
And she didn’t do vulnerable.
Look, she fucking loved how she looked. She loved her hips and her ass that looked like a peach and her tattoos and all her piercings. She knew, however, that she wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
Who is, honestly?
She’d lived in a fantasy with him for months where what they looked like was just…mostly irrelevant. He couldn’t judge her or fetishize her.
But she didn’t want to lose him. What if he didn’t like her when they met in person?
Generally, most people didn’t like her in person.
Her temper got the better of her, she was angry all the time, and her mouth ran off before she could think. She hated most of the world and it hated her right back.
He’d never experienced that side of her.
Could she handle losing the one person who was her refuge from it all?
Three dots indicated he was typing.
Hemingway_CanSuckIt
You could have one and a half heads, a humpback, and a penchant for eating nickels, and I still wouldn’t be disappointed.
ImpossiblyBookish
what about pennies?
Hemingway_CanSuckIt
Bookish…
ImpossiblyBookish
hemingway…
Fuck it. Let’s get murdered and/or fucked.
ImpossiblyBookish
how about 4th of july weekend on lake erie?
i’ll be around for a printer conference.
That’s probably a thing, right?
Hemingway_CanSuckIt
It’s a date.
This is going to be a ……..very cringey question…
But I’m going to worry about it until then
ImpossiblyBookish
don’t worry, i’ll bring my own pennies to snack on
Hemingway_CanSuckIt
Oh good, never mind then
ImpossiblyBookish
……
hemingway, just say it
Hemingway_CanSuckIt
When I see you for the first time...
…can I kiss you?
This isn’t an official agreement. You can revoke consent at any time, obviously
I’ve just dreamed about kissing you for five months
And again, I don’t want to weird you out
I’ll overthink it if I don’t have a plan.
Actually, never mind
I think I’ve already over-thunk it.
Let’s just play it by ear
ImpossiblyBookish
h, honey
Hemingway_CanSuckIt
Yes, gorgeous
ImpossiblyBookish
i cannot wait for you to kiss me
During their texting over dinner, Reed had ferreted out that Pearl was thinking of doing the festival, and so he sat smugly next to her, smiling as the mayor, droned on about the rundown of events of the festival. It was sweltering in the community room, and Pearl counted water spots on the ceiling to pass the time.
“Now,” a reedy voice called out from the front. Bow-tie man was holding up a stack of papers. “Who are all the vendors who need to finish their registration?”
Reed beamed at her, encouraging her to raise her hand.
She rolled her eyes and put up a hand. “God, I hate this. Why can’t I just sell muffins out of my trunk?”
“Because trunk muffins are suspicious,” Reed said, whispering to her, pulling her arm up higher so she could be seen.
The Parkers sat on the other side of her, and they beamed almost as much as Reed. She got shoulder-nudging from Lily. Bloom would have a large display at the festival, and Lily’s husband, Nash, was supplying most of the funding as part of his credit union’s community outreach.
Reed had offered to split the table fee with her so that he could hand out flyers for the grand opening and sell merch for the shop.
She still had a chill down her spine when she thought about the bookstore being named Bookish. What were the odds?
Though, it wasn’t like her name was very creative.Every book girlie under the sun had something in their life that had the word “Bookish” on it.
As Harry droned on about paperwork, and optional paperwork, and paperwork in triplicate, Pearl dreamed about how good a cocktail sounded. Before she knew it, a crack of the gavel meant that the meeting was adjourned.
She threw back her head. “God, I need a drink.”
“Oh, same,” Lily said. “We should all go.” The Parkers’ husbands were all in tow tonight.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we should get back to Frank,” Violet said with a worried look at her husband, Jack.
“You know very well, my love,” Jack said, his British accent a purr as he kissed her head, “that he is perfectly happy at my dad and June’s house until whenever we want to pick him up.”
“Come on,” Lily said, bumping Violet’s hip. “Pearl keeps promising to take me back to The Beaver,” Lily said, waggling her eyebrows.
Pearl’s eyes connected with Reed’s as she said, “They don’t serve food. Is everyone okay with that?”
The relief on his face was palpable. He winked at her with a warm smile. “Thanks,” he mouthed.
Her pussy clenched involuntarily in response. Golden, glittery shivers ran down her spine.
“As long as they’ve got vodka for me and a soda for Gray, I’m there,” Rose said, striding toward the exit and leading the charge.
Twenty minutes later, they’d all settled in with cold drinks and sodas. They crowded around a small table, and her knees knocked with Reed’s. The Thirsty Beaver was hopping tonight, and loud music played from the old jukebox.
She felt a glimmer of couple-iness with Reed, given the three women and their husbands sat around the table, gossiping about the town and talking about Bloom. Reed, Lily, and Rose were putting their heads together about Bookish’s soft opening. Pearl couldn’t stop staring at Reed as he talked with the Parkers; the resemblance was uncanny.
She saw their drinks were half-empty, so she decided to buy the next round. She was so damn proud of herself that she could buy eight beers at one time when necessary now. The Parkers had been so kind and generous that she was happy to buy them a round. It made her feel likea worthless loser if these three amazing women and their successful husbands wanted to spend time with her.
She told Reed she was going to the bar.
He squinted, not hearing her. He tugged her chair closer until it knocked against his.
Oh my god, that was so fucking hot.
“What?” he called, putting his arm on the back of her chair and leaning down to hear her better.
Cedar and cologne teased her nose as she fought herself from leaning in and mauling him. “I’m going to get another round,” she yelled.
“I’ll help you,” Reed said, pushing up. As they maneuvered through the busy crowd, she felt his hand at her back. It sent a thrill down her spine.
You are such a hypocrite, Pearl. You hate this white knight shit.
But you love it so hard too.
As they got close to the bar, she spotted a handful of women with books on a table and cocktails in hand.
Maria, from the historical committee, waved them down. “Hey, you two!” She was flanked by Mrs. Maroo-Canon and Margie, Pearl’s personal hero and sassy waitress at Pop Canon’s diner. They all had a copy of a steamy-looking romance novel on the table.
“Book club?” Pearl yelled.
“Sexy book club.” Mrs. Maroo-Canon waggled her eyebrows. “Thought we’d get inspired by the ambiance of a biker bar as we talked about Inked in Ruin: A Motorcycle Club Secret Baby Romance.”
“Honestly,” Margie grumbled, her bright pink lipstick and unlit cigarette between her lips, “it didn’t have enough smut for me.”
Reed’s eyes lit up with humor. “You should all make sure to check out the bookstore’s soft launch. In fact, snacks will be provided by…”
He looked at her expectantly.
They’d talked about this. He wasn’t putting her on the spot, but it still felt weird and embarrassing to announce her bakery.
Pearl finally admitted, “Blackbird Bakery?”
Reed beamed.
Shit, she was really doing it. She couldn’t back out now.
Maria pulled Reed aside, and Pearl went to the bar and put in her order.
The skeezy guy she’d seen at Dave’s party was sitting at the bar, sipping a beer, and he blanched when he saw her next to him.
He was reading a worn library copy of Roxanne Gay’s Bad Feminist .
What the fuck alternate timeline did I just step into? “You know, that’s a pro -feminism book, right?”
“Hey, look, man.” The grizzled guy had genuine fear in his eyes. “I’m not comin’ near you. Your guy’s crazy, man.” He moved a stool down.
“What guy?” She looked around.
“You know, the dude you’re with,” he said, nodding at Reed talking with the book club. “He said he’d kill me if I ever touched you again.” He moved one more stool over just for good measure and went back to his book.
Pearl turned back toward Reed, all smiles and charm as he talked to the ladies about their book.
He glanced up at her with a panty-melting smile and winked as he listened to Maria.
It did something to her.
I’m probably in love with Hemingway.
And I’m in something with Reed.
How have I managed to avoid all the gooey feelings for like five years, and then somehow two crash into me at one time?