Chapter Eleven #2
“Nice.” Alex drank some more water, his breathing slowing to normal.
I’d never been so turned on by a man’s breathing before.
Then there was that flash of stomach, flat and toned, under his cropped shirt that became a full display when he pulled the end of his shirt up to mop his brow.
My mouth went dry; this Diet Coke was useless.
Now that I was allowing myself to objectify Alex, it was like I was losing my mind.
Oblivious to my staring, Alex sighed, leaning back on the balustrade and stretching his legs (long, tanned legs with just the right amount of muscle, under cutoff gray sweats) in front of him.
“I’ve been wanting to do something like that.
” His voice was dreamy, tired, as he tilted his face up toward the sun.
“You know, those ballads Shakespeare writes in his plays? Or even one of the sonnets. I love when people set them to music.”
“Sonnets, huh?” Dex considered that. “You mean like ‘compare thee to a summer’s day’ or whatever?”
“Maybe. Or something more obscure.” Alex’s eyes were closed now, his voice dreamy from exercise and the summer sun.
“Obscure…” Dex tapped a finger on his bottom lip. “Like that song in Much Ado that talks about how much men suck?”
I snorted from my place at the table, and Alex’s eyes cut over in my direction before looking back at Dex in wonder.
“Hey,” Dex said. “I’m literate. Lot of Shakespeare where I work.”
“Fair enough,” Alex conceded. “But I’m thinking something a little more…romantic, maybe.” And he was looking at me again. Holding his gaze felt bold, thrilling. He expected me to look away first, his eyes widening when he realized I wasn’t going to.
“Romantic, sure.” Dex plucked out a few single notes on his guitar. “That’s doable. You bring your guitar?”
Alex shook his head. “Not today.”
“Bring it tomorrow,” Dex said. “We’ll do something.”
“Yeah?” Alex raised his eyebrows, his voice hopeful.
“You bet,” Dex said, then he smirked. “You suck at ‘Rattlin’ Bog.’ May as well learn something else.
” Alex barked a laugh in response and Dex’s smirk became a wide smile.
“Maybe you could make it part of that whole Shakespeare improv thing you do. Put, like, a little bingo ball in there that says ‘sing a Shakespeare song.’ ”
“Maybe.” It seemed like a great idea to me, but Alex’s agreement seemed vague.
Across the table from me, Lulu hit a couple more keys. “And…done!” She stretched her arms up over her head in victory.
“Finish your contract?” I asked. I took another sip from my Diet Coke, which had gone warm by now. Bleh. I nudged it aside.
“Yep!” She snapped her laptop closed, pushing it away from her with a happy sigh. “No more Wi-Fi for me for at least a week. The rest of the run of this Faire, if I’m lucky.”
“So…” I said carefully. “You don’t have anything going on for the next couple weeks?”
“Nope!” Lulu grinned. “Free as a bird.” She took the clip out of her hair, shaking the long, strawberry-blond locks free and massaging her scalp before coiling it up again. “Why, you need help with your résumé?” She clipped her hair up off her neck. “I’d be happy to take a look if you want.”
“That would be great. What do you know about keywords?” I frowned at my screen. “It’s not standing out the way it should.”
She made a gimme motion with one hand. “Shoot it on over.” She gusted out a sigh. “When the hell did you become a grown-up? Wasn’t it just last week we were eating ice cream out of the carton together?”
I’d forgotten all about that night, but now the memory came screaming back.
Just after freshman year in college, about midway through the Faire season.
Alex had already pulled his disappearing act, between dumping me via text and pointedly avoiding me at Faire.
But it had taken a scroll through his Instagram, something I’d avoided doing until then, to put the final nail in that coffin.
He’d posted three photos since he’d been in Willow Creek; two of them were selfies with the volunteer tavern wench I’d seen him flirting with.
Her name was Nikki, and she was a bartender at Jackson’s.
A good ten years older than me, and probably more his speed.
I’d stared at those pictures, unblinking, punishing my eyes and my heart.
Then I hit the Block button. To my surprise, I didn’t cry.
I’d already cried enough over Alex at that point; I didn’t have any tears left for him.
I would have sat at that kitchen table all night, just doomscrolling, but a set of car headlights swung into the driveway.
I waited, a lot longer than it should have taken, for Lulu to come in.
I knew that she and Dex had had some kind of thing going on, but when the look on her face echoed the pain in my own heart, I knew it was bad.
Soon there was a carton of ice cream and two spoons between us on the kitchen island.
I probably should have confided in her, but I knew if I did I would have dissolved right there in front of her, and I didn’t know her like that.
Easier then to talk about my roommate’s breakup with her long-distance boyfriend.
The ice cream had helped, though.
I nodded now toward the kitchen. “Mom keeps the chocolate chocolate chip stocked, just in case we need it.”
“Is there ever a time we don’t need chocolate chocolate chip?” Lulu grinned.
“There really isn’t,” I said. I hit a few keystrokes, sending my résumé Lulu’s way. “I appreciate you taking a look.”
“Of course! If there’s anything I can ever do, just say the word.”
She was talking about my job search. I knew that.
But I glanced over at Simon and Mitch, still engrossed in their chess match talk.
Then I looked at Alex and Dex, already bent over the latter’s guitar, trying out snatches of song.
Backyard Ren Faire still in full effect.
I wasn’t one of them, I reminded myself.
I didn’t need to be worrying about any of this.
But I couldn’t help it. All I could see in my head was the freshly pressed Queen dress in the front hall closet, with no one to wear it.
“Actually,” I said. “There’s something else I could really use your help with.” I tilted my head, really looking at Lulu for the first time. Wondering how she’d look in a crown. “How would you feel about being Queen?”
—
It didn’t take a ton of convincing. Lulu was family, so I had an unfair advantage. Once Mitch heard what I was trying to do, he put on the pressure, gesturing a lot at his walking boot as though his injury had anything to do with our not having a Queen.
“Come on, Lu.” He gave her the widest, most helpless eyes, which seemed silly. She was his cousin; shouldn’t she be immune to his charms?
She huffed and crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know. Queen? I don’t feel qualified for that.”
“It really would help us out a lot.” It seemed like Simon wasn’t above adding a little guilt to the pile.
“It’s not hard,” I said. (“That’s what she said,” Mitch muttered, but I ignored him.) “Toby and I will be with you the whole time, leading you around. We’ll make sure you’re where you need to be, and I’ll help you remember everything you need to say.
All you have to do is wear the dress and act regal. You can do that.”
“Yeah…” Lulu screwed up her face, biting on the inside of her cheek. “I mean, I used to be a trial lawyer. Acting regal in front of opposing counsel was in the job description.” She was wavering. I could tell by the tone in her voice that she was half-convinced. I just had to bring it home.
“Why don’t y’all stay for dinner?” I pushed out of my chair. “I’m pretty sure I saw one of Mom’s lasagnas in the freezer.”
That got her attention, and Dex’s too; the guitar sounds from the top of the steps stopped abruptly. “Did I hear lasagna?” He pumped his fist. “Hell yeah.” He leaned over his guitar toward Alex, who still lounged two steps below him. “You need to stay for dinner. April’s lasagna is killer.”
Alex turned startled eyes to me, and even though my pulse beat hard in my throat, I appreciated the gesture. My invitation hadn’t extended to him and he knew it. He didn’t know where we stood. I wasn’t sure myself.
But dinner was a good enough start. “Sure,” I said on a sigh. “There’s plenty. May as well stay for dinner.” As invitations went, it wasn’t very gracious, but it was the best I could do in the moment. I turned to Simon. “How about you and Emily? Make it an even eight?”
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t…” But his voice trailed off, and I knew why. Mom’s lasagna really was killer, like Dex said.
“Emily has the closing shift at the bookstore,” I reminded him. “This way neither one of you have to cook.”
An eyebrow went up. “Well, when you put it like that…” He levered himself out of the Adirondack chair. “I’ll text Emily.”
Mom came home around six thirty to the smell of a reheating lasagna and a full house.
“I had no idea I was hosting the entire Faire,” she said dryly, looking at Mitch. He shrugged, as though he’d had nothing to do with it.
“Okay if my friends stay for dinner?” His mouth kicked up in a wicked grin aimed in her direction, and her cheeks grew pink. That was my cue to head to the kitchen; it was time for me to be anywhere else.