A light hum came from the earbud she had nestled in her right ear, and her thumbs moved across the phone at a lightning speed I was jealous of.
Maybe if mine moved that fast, I’d be able to avoid my mother’s calls.
“So,” I said after a minute.
She said nothing.
“Did you get my text?”
Still nothing.
“The address for the wedding. I reserved you a parking spot.”
She glanced up, her eyelashes fluttering as she looked at me with annoyance. “I replied, so obviously I got it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Nothing.
“You do know you’re going to have to talk to me at the wedding, don’t you?”
Sighing, she tapped the screen, then hit a button on the side of her phone and put it down. “Yes, Sebastian. I’m aware. I thought it was obvious I was holding all my words until then.”
“Oh, was that what you were doing? I thought you were just listening to your book.”
“I was. The hero was about to bang her against a door. This conversation better be worth pausing my audiobook for.” She stared at me across the table. “Well?”
I blinked. “I have no idea how to respond to that.”
“An apology would be a good start.”
“I’m sorry I interrupted your porn?”
Without a word, she got up and moved another three tables away.
All right, that wasn’t the right answer.
I followed her over there. “I’m sorry I interrupted your book?”
She stared at me blandly. “Do you know how sick and tired I am of having to defend my choice in books? Do you know how many times a week I have to explain to people that romance novels are not ‘mommy porn’ or ‘smut’ or whatever other derogatory term is the flavor of the day?”
She didn’t want an answer to that.
I didn’t know much, but I did know that I was supposed to shut up right now.
“I literally could not give a damn if you judge me for listening to sex in my books,” Holley continued, her cheeks flaring with what was, I thought, a cross between annoyance and mild embarrassment that she’d said that out loud. “Romance novels are, for the most part, a healthy representation of relationships where there is respect and consent and love, and if more young women were taught not to be ashamed of what they read, maybe the world would be a better place.”
I still didn’t respond.
I still didn’t think she wanted me to.
“Fucking vampires are perfectly fine to read on a train,” she muttered, trailing off. “But healthy love stories? God forbid those realistic stories be socially acceptable.”
My lips twitched. “Really? People are fine with you reading vampires, but romance is taboo?”
“Welcome to my world,” she said dryly. “Now you’ve successfully commanded my attention, what do you want?”
I held up my hands. “I just wanted to make sure you knew where you were going this weekend.”
“Sebastian, I know where the White Peak Mountain Resort is.”
“It’s snowing nearby and will probably be at the resort this weekend. Can your car get up there?”
“It’s a Jeep. I hope so, or I’m writing a strongly-worded letter to the CEO of whoever makes them.” She tucked some hair behind her ears. “Stop staring at me.”
“You’re not wearing your glasses.”
“There’s this nifty invention called contact lenses.”
“I know that, but I’ve never seen you wear them.”
She shifted, glancing away. “I don’t wear them often, but I took a walk up to Peak Place. My glasses get steamed up sometimes, so I prefer wearing contacts if I’m hiking.”
“Is Peak Place considered hiking?”
“Why don’t we go up there and we’ll see how long it takes people to hike to your body?”
“You’re murderous lately.”
“It’s the company I keep. It’s questionable.”
I grinned. “Saylor sure is.”
Holley dragged her brown eyes back to me and pursed her lips. “Stop trying to make me laugh. It’s not going to work.”
“I would bet money that I’ll have you laughing by the end of the weekend.”
“I don’t have the kind of money you bet with, baller.”
“Twenty bucks.”
“Seriously?”
I shrugged. “Hey, twenty bucks is breakfast. I’m not exactly a gambler.”
She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest, right beneath her breasts, making them lift up so they were clear to see even under her oversized hoodie. “I’ve bet more with Saylor over stupid crap. I’m not betting twenty bucks with you.”
“All right, fine. Don’t. But I’m still going to be right. You’ll be laughing by the end of Saturday night.”
“I see no situation where I’ll be laughing with you.”
“So bet on it.”
“I’m not sixteen, Sebastian.”
“You just said you bet with Saylor. Why not with me?”
“Because I only bet with my friends.”
Ouch.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I said dryly. “Fine. If I can’t make you laugh by the end of Saturday, I owe you breakfast. And you don’t even have to eat it with me. I’ll buy it for you, Saylor, and Kinsley.”