Page 18 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions
A lost cause, honestly. He wasn’t interested in me. Which was fine. Anything with him was bound to be messy, and I seemed to be the only person who realized that.
That didn’t mean George wasn’t super entertaining, though.
Or that I wasn’t fascinated by him.
Fascinated enough that I couldn’t seem to stop flirting, even if my usual MO when it came to June’s set ups was to go icy cold.
When our flight landed—unfortunately too quickly for me to get anything real out of him—George was gone before I could blink. Those leggy legs had eaten up the distance as fast as they possibly could. He’d practically teleported off the plane.
I would’ve been offended if I truly cared.
Which I didn’t. Except, apparently I did. At least…a little.
Again, he wasn’t interested.
A thought that rankled more than it should have, considering I was bound and determined not to feed into the madness that was my sister and her matchmaking.
“What’s up with your face?” The aforementioned twin sister, June, said in greeting.
“Nothing’s up with my face.” I yanked the passenger door to her truck open. We both knew I was lying. I hadn’t schooled my expression quickly enough. And besides, she knew me better than anyone. My thoughts were full. Full of soft lips, chin dimples, and scowl lines.
“You look constipated.”
“Thanks,” I replied dryly, sliding into my seat.
June drove a hilariously massive pickup truck. Hilarious because of how fucking tiny she was. Climbing in and out made her look like a cartoon character straight out of a picture book. Which was exactly why she’d bought the car in the first place. She enjoyed the looks she received when she hopped out and people realized the monstrosity was being manned by a big-boobed hobbit. (Her name, not mine.)
If there was one thing June didn’t lack, it was good humor.
Case in point.
That was one of the things I loved most about her.
That and her knack for calling me on my bullshit. As frustrating as it could be, she grounded me. Constantly proving that not everyone in the world was a superficial asswipe, even if it sometimes felt like it.
“So…” June said as I grabbed a couple empty Coke bottles at my feet. I tossed them into the back to make room. A wayward fast-food bag crunched beneath my heel, but I left it alone. Too much nitpicking and I’d incite her ire.
I didn’t want to do that.
Not when I knew I was about to piss her off—a fact I hated, even if I couldn’t really help it.
I knew what she was hinting at.
As infuriating as it was.
“So?”
“You met George.” She grinned a shit-eating grin. The kind of grin that made me want to smother her with a pillow.
“Yes.”
“Aaaand?” June waited eagerly, already slamming her cowboy boot on the gas and peeling out of the arrival zone at the airport. She drove like a woman possessed—and yet somehow, we always managed to be late for everything. Like being chronically behind schedule was simply a facet of who she was. She blamed the trains that ran through Columbus, even when it wasn’t their fault.
Almost like I’d summoned one, we were cut off from the road by the gates lowering. With a groan, I leaned back, theding, dingof the approaching train acting as background noise as I settled in for an interrogation.
“And he’s…”Sexy, cute, grumpy, not interested?“Blond,” I finally decided.
“Blond,” June echoed unenthusiastically.
