Page 91 of So Much More
I narrow my eyes at him. “If he’s such a ‘good dude,’ why aren’t you friends with him? You worked with him for two years.”
“I don’t need as many people around me as you do.”
He’s right again. He can get by with a couple of close friends, but I thrive in a group.
Ash adds, “Ask Wendy what she thinks about Brian. She’ll know if the two of you would hit it off as friends.”
I shrug. “Okay. I can do that. But it doesn’t help me right now.”
“What will helpmeis for you to stop changing the channel every three seconds. It’s nice outside for a change. Go out on the balcony and read your book.”
Much to his surprise, I push myself off the couch, drop the remote on his chest, and do what he says.
* * *
When the phone rings several hours later, pulling my focus from my book, I hope it’s Wendy, but I’m pretty sure it’ll be Leslie calling for Ash. My heart races as I wait to find out, but when my brother doesn’t come out to get me within thirty seconds, I give up hoping and start reading again.
“I’m heading over to Leslie’s,” he says through the balcony screen door a few minutes later.
I close my book and pull my feet off the small patio table they were resting on. “Did she say how things went?”
“Sounds like they had a good time.”
I hold my hands palm up. “That’s all you’ve got? They had a good time?”
“We didn’t have a full conversation because I’m going over there.”
“But I want details now.”
He shrugs. “Tough. I’ll see you later.” Then he’s gone.
I head back into the apartment in search of something to eat. There’s not much in the fridge, but I’m not about to leave to get something, because I don’t want to miss a potential call from Wendy. Of course, I could call her, but I’m not sure she’d want me to. I’m trying to let her set the pace, and I don’t want to move too fast.
An hour later, when I haven’t heard from her, I can’t take it anymore. I pick up the phone and punch in her number, but I stop before hitting the last digit and hang up again. I do this two more times before smacking myself on the back of the head and dialing her entire number. I groan when the busy signal beeps in my ear, and I hang the phone back up.
Ten long minutes later I’m about to try again when it rings.
I grab it up. “Hello?”
“Hi.”
My smile is so big it hurts. “Did you have a good weekend?”
“I did. Um …”
“Yeah?” I prompt.
“Do you want to come over?”
My heart leaps into my throat. “I’ll be there soon. Have you eaten dinner?”
“No.”
“Hungry?”
“Famished.”
“How about I pick up a pizza on the way?”
