TWENTY-FOUR
Rip
“She gave you a fruit basket?” She spit out the toothpaste and then wiped her mouth with a towel. “Like with real fruit?”
How had I not noticed how gorgeous she was? How easy it was to exist around her? How attracted I’d been this whole time? And all the fucking energy I’d spent trying to push her away, to push away my feelings because they scared me, she scared me. Monica left. Brooks left. Our parents left. It was terrifying to suddenly allow yourself to fall so hard and fast that the idea of not existing with that person standing next to you, brushing their teeth, ruined you.
When I truly looked back and thought about it, I realized I’d just been irritated that they saw through me, every part. Monica and Brooks knew me better than I knew myself and knew what I needed.
I shook my head, bringing myself back to the present. “No, fake fruit, broke a tooth, lesson learned.”
She rolled her pretty blue eyes and then pulled her dirty-blond hair into a messy bun and faced me. “I don’t like her.”
“I’m aware.”
She put her hands on her hips, drawing attention to her smooth thighs and small black shorts. “Seriously, she’s the devil, she was so freaking mean to me in high school, and I know I need to bury the hatchet, but she’s… I’m sorry. This is me trying.”
“Uh-huh.” I was seriously distracted by the fact that Colby was wearing a black tank top with no bra. “I know you are.”
She grabbed her moisturizer and started rubbing it all over her face and neck while I moved behind her to grab my toothbrush. That was when I realized… we moved together like we’d been sharing a space, a home, for years. Like we were always meant to be this in sync.
I moved out of the way for her when she reached across the counter, then handed her what she needed.
She snatched the toothpaste out of my hand as if we’d been doing this forever and put it away. “I just… I don’t trust her.”
“Are we still talking about Heather and the pear basket I gave to Banks?”
“Wait, why did you give it to Banks?” she asked, frowning.
“Banks has a thing for pears, and he was going to steal it anyway.” I sighed and then started brushing my teeth while Colby hung up her towel and leaned her hip against the countertop.
“He needs to find the right girl and settle down before he turns into a contestant on The Bachelor, not that I’m judging, I’d watch the hell out of that.”
I almost laughed because she sounded just like Monica in that moment. My sister had said the same to me more than once.
I pointed my toothbrush at Colby. “If you try to set him up with someone, he’s just going to ask her cup size.”
Colby gasped. “That bastard!”
“He’s a player, told you so…”
“But he was always so nice to me,” she argued. “Respectful.”
I almost choked on my toothpaste as I spit it back into the sink. “Respectful? Colby, have you looked in a mirror recently? Any guy would think you were sexy as hell. Was he trying to play matchmaker? Yes, but don’t for one second think that he wouldn’t have jumped at the opportunity to get into your pants if he thought you were interested in him.”
She sniffed and looked away. “You said I was a hot mess.”
I pointed my toothbrush at her again. “Emphasis on hot.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Anyway, he was just helping me out.”
“Helping make me jealous, yeah, I know. Read that loud and clear every time he invited himself over and tried to take you out. Idiot. Did he really think I didn’t notice you?”
She shrugged. “It seems to me that everyone around us knew this would happen and should, except for us. To be fair, our horrible date and sniping at each other for years didn’t help.”
I looked away, gripping the counter with my fingertips. “I was nervous.”
She jerked her head up. “I’m sorry, what?”