FIFTEEN
Colby
“You’re like a bad cold.” I sighed and opened the door wider to let Banks in. He was wearing perfectly tight, black ripped jeans that were molded to his body and a graphic T-shirt that had some sort of band’s name scribbled over it.
“I think that was a compliment,” he said. “You ready to go?” He stepped inside and looked around the house. “It’s cleaner than last time. Has Rip learned his lesson yet, or did he hire maids?”
“Why are you here?” Rip grumbled as he stomped down the stairs.
“Did we break up?” Banks looked around the room. “I’m your friend. Friends often stop by other friends’ houses, especially when taking friends to the movies.”
I frowned. “You guys are going to the movies?”
“No, we are.” Banks wrapped an arm around me. “So, like I said, are you ready?”
“Hold up a second.” Rip held out his hands. “We had plans today.”
“Plans?” Banks frowned. “Like what?”
I wanted to say, “Yeah, like what?” since we’d already finished the closet; instead I just watched Rip sweat.
“We were cleaning out the closets…” Rip cleared his throat and shared a look with me that said, Don’t say a word.
“But we finished just a few minutes ago,” I pointed out. “And the kids are going to be out until dinner.”
Rip suddenly smiled. “You’re right, I’ll just go get my jacket.”
My jaw dropped. “You hate the movies.”
“No, I hate romantic comedies, I don’t hate all movies.”
“This is a romantic comedy.” Banks seemed to be enjoying himself as he looked between us. “But if you think you can stomach it—”
“I’ll be fine,” Rip blurted, and then he eyed me up and down. “Why don’t you change into—”
“Finish that sentence, see what happens.” I parked my hands on my hips and offered him my fiercest glare because here’s the thing, I was fully aware that I wasn’t wearing a pantsuit like Heather. I owned zero designer earrings or shoes with red bottoms and yes, maybe I was feeling insecure about it, but the point was, he’d almost kissed me. What had happened to him not wanting perfect?
Whatever, we both got caught up in the moment. Nothing more. And the fact was, I wouldn’t change my chaos for perfection any day, even if it gave me the sweats along with chest pain, because.
Life.
These kids represented life.
A life that might be messy, and sad, but it was joyful too.
So if I was the one who made Rip shake his head at the chaos of it all, well, good on me.
Good. On. Me.
Rip scowled and held up his hands in innocence. “I was just saying…”
“Good call on not finishing that sentence. Plus she always looks beautiful, even in head-to-toe black sweats and a…” He pointed at my head. “Is that a bun or a ponytail?”
I groaned. “Maybe I should change.”
Rip let out a snort.
“I’m sorry, did you want to say something?” I crossed my arms.