“Hilarious,” I deadpan, while Wren gives me more life advice.
“Seriously, you have got to put an end to these weekly dinners with Ryan. Where you both politely avoid talking about anything important and continue to do this weird ‘are we Amish-dating or are we friends’ thing, where no one is sticking their tongue down anyone’s throat or getting laid,” she reminds me. “All because you don’t want to hurt his feelings and tell him the spark fizzled out long before you even moved away, and trying to pick up where you left off once you got back, like you always do, is pointless. Put an end to it so you stop feeling guilty about diddling yourself every time you look at Quinn Bagley’s poster hanging on your bedroom wall, fantasizing about the night you spent with him before you moved back here.”
“What the fuck?” Tess and Birdie shout at the same time.
Of course the two of them have known about my crush on the guy, since I’ve had it forever. They just didn’t know about my last night in California with him.
“Nice,” I complain to Wren, who has been sworn to secrecy ever since I called and woke her up at three in the morning five months ago. “I did not spend the night with Quinn Bagley. Stop exaggerating. We’re not talking about Ryan, and we’re definitely not talking about Quinn.”
“Oh, Quinn, is it? So you’re on a first name basis with the guy you’ve actually been in love with half your life, and we didn’t know anything about it? Bullshit we’re not talking about this!” Tess argues.
“There is nothing to talk about—believe me. I’m fairly confident the guy doesn’t even remember I exist. It was ages ago, and it was nothing,” I roll my eyes, even though I’m internally screaming, Bullshit is right, because it wasn’t nothing, dammit!
“This is all so romantic, you guys!” Wren gushes. “Palmer and Birdie were in love with each other forever without knowing it. Me and Shepherd had a thing for each other forever without knowing it. Tess and Bodhi—”
“Leave me out of this shit,” Tess interrupts her. “I still don’t know if I like the guy, and I’m married to him and having his kid.”
“Anyway,” Wren continues. “Something exciting is coming your way, Emily. I can feel it. I bet Quinn has been thinking about you just as much as you’ve been thinking about him these last few months, and it’s only going to be a matter of time before you get your happily ever after.”
I laugh. And laugh, and laugh some more. While I finish off my second slush, the tequila finally making me feel nice and floaty.
“Yeah, okay, sure. You’re forgetting the guy doesn’t even know my last name,” I remind her, still kicking my own ass for not giving it to him.
I was moving back home, and I didn’t see the point. I figured if I gave it to him, I would just obsess about it every day he didn’t try to contact me, but I freaking wound up obsessing about it every day anyway!
“The likelihood of him even remembering he met me five months ago is slim to none,” I finish.
And doesn’t that just suck to say out loud, even though I’ve been thinking it every day for the last 150 or so, feeling like a fool for hoping he would have asked around about who Carson was, who the mystery redhead was he brought to his house, and then found me if he really wanted to.
Or, you could have easily contacted him, since you know exactly who he is, and you stalk all of his social media accounts… like a freak!
“Stop ruining the romantic future I’ve already planned for you,” Wren orders.
“I’m a nobody, living all the way over here off the coast of Virginia, running my parents’ little island business. And he’s a big, fancy, professional football player, living thousands of miles away in California, who doesn’t even know who I am. There is no romantic future.”
I have not had enough tequila for this.
“You just need to think positive,” Birdie encourages, bumping her slush cup against mine in a cheers.
“He’s definitely pining for you!”
“I can’t believe we’re going to have another professional athlete romance happening right here on Summersweet!”
“But did you see his dick?”
“What does he smell like? I bet he smells like hopes and dreams.”
“Long distance is hard, but I know you can make anything work!”
“Seriously, what does his dick look like?”
“Could you imagine if he’s been trying to find you this entire time?”
“You should just message him already and speed this shit up!”
“Show me the DickFax report!”
Slamming my hands down on the picnic table to get everyone to shut up, I open my mouth and shout, “Oh, yes! I spent a handful of hours canoodling with Quinn Bagley in his backyard five months ago, and now he loves me a whole bunch, and we’re going to live happily ever after, forever and ever, the end!”