Dating by the Book by Mary Ann Marlowe

Author:Mary Ann Marlowe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2019-04-15T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

Layla woke me up cranking some song only she knew. I dragged my carcass into the kitchen, where she stood at the stove over a pan of scrambled eggs.

“Morning,” she said. “Eggs?”

“No, thanks.” I stretched. “Why in the hell are you awake?” I craned my neck to look into her bedroom just in case she was harboring a secret rendezvous. Who would she have hooked up with? So far as I could tell, Internet people didn’t have a corporeal state.

She fixed her plate and sat at the table. I went over to turn down the music, poured coffee, and sat across from her. “Talk.”

“I’ve got good news!” She grinned over her mug. “Guess what!”

I hated guessing, so I lobbed, “Um. You have a meeting with the pope?”

She guffawed. “Nope. Nope to the pope.”

I tapped my fingers together. “Let’s see. You’ve decided to become a vegan?”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop.”

“You told me to guess. I’m guessing.”

“Guess something realistic. I’ll give you a clue. It’s something you’ve been telling me to do for a while now.”

I pondered our history. I didn’t think she’d be so excited if she’d cleaned the bathroom. I had been on her about one thing, and I remembered her résumé and mysterious interest in my wardrobe.

“You found a job?”

She beamed. “I did!”

Now my grin matched hers. “What? Where?” She’d vowed she’d only get a job if she could work in New York City, but she’d never been able to get even an interview for any positions there. I was nervous she’d finally succeeded and would abandon me.

“It’s a cosmetics company just outside Indy. I start today!”

She was going to abandon me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to wake up still. “Where will you live?”

“Relax. I can commute there from here for now. See how it goes. Guess what else?”

I groaned at her for making me work at this. “It’s a night shift?”

“Shut up. No. It’s in social media, so I can totally up my game. Maybe this will be a stepping stone to getting a job in Manhattan after a year or so.”

“That sounds perfect.” I scooted over and pulled her in for a quick hug. “I’m excited for you!”

She jumped up. “Do you mind if I pilfer from your never-ending stash of respectable clothes until I can build up my own non-pajama-based wardrobe?”

It was like we were reversing polarities, her rushing headlong toward the life I’d fled. As we picked out a week’s worth of outfits that would present an image of success, I wondered if I’d moved too far in the opposite direction. Max always dressed like he was going to a real job while I treated the bookstore the same way I had as a kid, like a place to curl up in my comfiest clothes. I held up a pink pin-striped shirt I’d always loved and paired it with a dark gray skirt, considering.

My eyes drifted to the prettier dresses, and for the first time in months, I had the urge to put one on, imagining Dylan’s reaction without meaning to.

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