Page 258 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
Maybe I shouldn’t deflect anymore.
After eight years, and plenty of other boyfriends that didn’t pan out, perhaps I need to start leaning intohisflirting more. Even if it is terrifying.
As we pull away from Petaluma and onto the highway again, I vow to hunt for the right moment to let my best friend know how I feel. But I add another vow. A brand-new one—one designed to protect me. If I tell him and it doesn’t work out, I’ll move on. Right away. I’ll get back on the apps before Christmas.
I’ll start dating again.
It’s time.
“Yes, it’s just you and me,” I say, my voice strong, masking the nerves underneath.
“Just the way I like it,” River says, then he taps the dash. “Your turn. You play some music. I want to be wowed by the deejay in the passenger seat.”
I want to wow him.
Because this chemistry isn’t only terrifying.
It’s thrilling.
5
RIVER
I am the worst.
I tell myself I won’t flirt, but what do I do?
The opposite.
And all this banter and sweet talk isn’t curbing my craving for Owen. It’s fanning the fire. Hell, the flames are climbing sky-high. Talking to him is easier than mixing drinks, than deciding to go on a hike, than goofing off with Delilah.
Hell, I made the guy happy by finding a perfect podcast for him—by knowing his tastes. And that feels so good.
Too good.
The last hour with Owen has my brain spinning forward, picturing future days. I need to pop this tingly, shivery bubble of my own making.
Stat.
When the first tune to fill the car is an Arctic Monkeys cover of a poppy love song, I seize my opportunity. “Wasn’t this Ezra’s favorite band?”
Owen scrunches his brow. “No. I’m the one who likes them. Not him.”
Oops. My bad. Sometimes the memory chip goes faulty. “But he liked them too,” I add, since the topic of exes is definitely non-flirting territory and I need to walk all over it. It’s perfect for a reset to FriendshipLandia.
“Because I did. Why are you asking whether he liked them?”
“Just thinking about Ezra,” I say, and mayday, fucking mayday. What is wrong with my brain?
Owen laughs like I’ve gone mad. “And why are you thinking about my ex?”
“I didn’t like him. He wasn’t any... fun,” I say, since that’s true, and a safe enough topic.
“Ezra wasn’t fun enough? That was your issue with him?” Owen sounds incredulous.
“He never liked to hang out with the whole group. He wanted you all to himself,” I say, and once those words fall from my lips, they don’t sound much better thanhe wasn’t any fun.
“Let me get this straight. You didn’t care for him because he wanted to spend time with me alone, not because he was a possessive jackass who dumped me publicly in Las Vegas at a poker game?”