Page 93 of Meet Cute Reboot
Luke is silent for a moment and then he clears his throat. “Given that you ruined our opportunity to complete our research for your potential Benton Street tour, how would you feel about coming over to my house and going commando on those emails?”
A laugh escapes my throat. It makes my head hurt. “Ow. Don’t make me laugh.”
“I’m not being funny.”
“Don’t you know what going commando means?”
“It means carrying out a special attack, in a military sense.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Sure it does.”
I rub my face and then tap a fingernail against the countertop. “I might come over if you promise to wear underwear.”
“I will definitely be wearing underwear.”
“Thank goodness.”
“I was thinking you could come this afternoon. We could go kayaking in the marshes behind Folly Island, come back home, make dinner, read some emails, hang out with Betsy, listen to her moan.”
I rest my elbows on the counter and lean into them. “What you’re describing sounds like a date.”
“An overnighter actually. Betsy only moans at night, and I want you around to hear her. For research purposes. Don’t worry. Separate bedrooms. I have five extra. You can take your pick. No funny business.”
“And you’ll be wearing underwear?”
“Except while kayaking. In that case, I’ll be wearing swim trunks with a mesh pouch that holds all my—”
“TMI!”
“—keys. What did you think I was going to say?”
I can hear Luke’s smile in his voice. My smile is plastered on my face, kept there by the thought of Luke bare-chested in a swimsuit. I’m not sure I can handle a night at his house. I’m not sure I can trust myself.
“Are you sure it’s not too soon?” I ask
“Too soon for what?”
“An overnighter. Remember, I only recently decided you might not be a jerk.”
Luke laughs. “No funny business.” His tone turns serious. “I mean it. We’ll stay up until Betsy pays her visit and then we’ll go to our separate rooms.”
I drop my forehead to the counter.
“Even you need a break now and then,” he says.
Bethany and I worked our tails off last week. My TikTok videos for next week are in draft status, just waiting for me topush publish. The radio segments are scheduled. Everything is planned. There’s nothing left to do but wait.
Maybe I do need a break.
The Tylenol is already starting to lift my headache. If I drink a lot of water and soak for an hour in the shower, I’ll probably be back to myself—my stress-laden self who could stand a mini-vacation in a fancy house that might be haunted.
“Don’t make me regret this,” I say.
“I won’t.”
We set a time, say our goodbyes, and I chug two glasses of water in quick succession.