About that same time, I see Larsen… blush?
A smile cracks my face, because I am one-hundred percent positive I’ve never seen even a touch of red shade those light cheeks of hers. But the way she’s staring at Dane, the way Dane is puffing his chest and smirking at her like he’s ready to get her naked…
Oh, boy.
I clap Dane on the shoulder when we catch up to him. “Hey, roomie.”
He cocks a brow at me when he turns, surprised. “Ah shit, Asher rope you in, too?”
“Actually, this one did.”
I nod toward Amanda, who is still looking around the stadium like she’s about to faint.
“Why did I agree to this?” she murmurs under her breath.
“Agreeing would imply that this was my idea,” I say. “Need I remind you it was you who said we should do it?”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind. And Shania Twain taught me in the 90s that I’m allowed to do that as much as I want.”
Larsen chuckles at that, and Amanda blushes, like she’s just realized that we’re around other people.
“Shania is always right,” Lars says, extending her hand. “Hi. I’m Doctor Larsen Belle. But call me Lars. Everyone else does.”
“Not-Doctor Amanda Parks,” she replies, and I see what I’m sure no one else does, the way she grimaces a bit with that last name.
I realize then that we haven’t talked much about her divorce, about when it’s officially happening. All I know is that David told me his dad has been dragging it out and making Amanda’s life a living hell.
I crack my neck at the thought.
Dane takes Amanda’s hand next, giving it a firm shake as he eyes me, her, then me again, his eyebrow perking up into his hairline. “And how do you two know each other?”
Amanda’s eyes snap to mine, and her conversation from earlier this week echoes in my head.
Can we keep this thing between us?
I clear my throat, sliding my hands in the pockets of my shorts. “We’re old friends,” I answer simply, hating how Amanda’s shoulders relax with relief at the dodge. “Dane and I were roommates in college,” I tell her, to make sure the subject stays away from us. “And Lars here works at Bayside.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Amanda says.
For a moment, we stand there in an awkward silence, Dane and Larsen exchanging glances while Amanda and I do the same.
Seems we’re not the only ones hiding something.
“Well, I’m going to see if I can find Asher,” I tell them.
“I’m sure he’s already shirtless and posing for Meadow somewhere,” Dane teases.
“Meadow?” Amanda asks.
“Meadow Matthews. Apparently, some hot shot phot—”
Before Dane can finish his sentence, Amanda gasps, smacking him in the arm — which makes Dane smile curiously and give me a look.
“The Meadow Matthews?”
“You know her?” I ask.
“Yes! Well, I mean no, obviously. No one does. She never shows her face on social media, but I’ve followed her work for years. She’s incredible.” Amanda looks at me then. “I had no idea she’d be here.”
“Well, let’s see if we can find them and you can meet her,” I say, and then I clap hands with Dane.
When he tries to pull away, I hold on tighter, grabbing his elbow with my other hand and speaking low enough where only he can hear it.
“You know I’m getting the scoop on whatever the fuck is going on here later, right?”
“I could say the same about you and your old friend,” he challenges, brow arching as we release.
We share a knowing glance, and then with a smile and a wave, I say goodbye to both of them, and Amanda and I make our way through the field to check the other tents for Asher.
We find him and Meadow by a group of firefighters doing synchronized push-ups, Meadow crouched down and snapping away as Asher watches her like she’s the most fascinating thing here. And to him, I can already tell she is.
“So that’s what she looks like,” Amanda muses from my side. She clicks her tongue. “If I had a body like that, I’d be posting all over social. Just saying.”
My eyes catch on her red tank top again, at where it stretches over her curves, where her leggings outline that juicy ass.
“You’re completely oblivious to how beautiful you are, aren’t you?”
Amanda’s smile slips, her eyes meeting mine for just a brief second before she clears her throat, nodding back at Asher and Meadow. “They look busy,” she says. “Maybe we should catch up with them later.”
Her change of subject is about as subtle as a cow in a field of kittens, but I let it go. I wait until Asher looks up, catching his gaze for just a second. He gives me a chin tilt greeting and his wide smile, but then he cocks his head at the sight of Amanda, wiggling his finger between the two of us with a questioning furrow of his brow.