“But are youinlove?” She shimmies her shoulders and the bells on her sweater jingle. “Is my psych project liking her dating prospects?”
I roll my eyes. “A, don’t ever refer to me as your psych project. It makes me feel like I’m in a mental hospital, and B, I never signed up for love.” I don’t add that I don’t want or need it.
She mimics my eye roll, but hers is better.
“A, I’m sorry, and B, I know your parents’ divorce rocked you, but don’t tell me you’ve given up on love.”
I frown at my pizza. It’s usually my favorite food. Not today.
“EvenIbelieve in love still, and I have a broken heart tattooed on my—”
“Yes, I know where it is.” I cut her off. “And I told you more than once it was a stupid idea.”
“But not as dumb as giving up on love before you can even experience the real thing.”
Karli was my best friend through high school when my world fell apart. She of all people should understand my reasons for avoiding romance.
I carry my plate to the sink. “Agree to disagree.”
“Come on Jules, I know I convinced you to do this for research, but nothing would make me happier than you experiencing one of the greatest gifts life has to offer.” She drops her pizza crust in the garbage.
“Oxygen?” It’s kind of hard to enjoy life without that.
“No, dummy, love.”
I fake a gasp. She leans against me and squeezes my side and a bell digs into my arm. She’s such a hugger, something I don’t mind. My parents never hugged me or each other. Maybe that was part of the problem. Physical connection is apparently cathartic. But we Hansens like to keep our feelings and our limbs close at all times.
“Just promise you’ll be open to it if it comes,” Karli says.
I purse my lips. “I promise toconsiderbeing open to it.”
“I suppose that will do for now.” She releases me and starts doing the dishes. It’s nice to have the roles reversed for once. Maybe when she’s done, I’ll ask for those cookies she promised.
“So, tell me, is there a guy who’s piqued your interest?” Karli’s voice sounds far too hopeful.
I collapseinto my chair and glance at my phone. No new message.
“I’m talking to this one guy,” I say.
“Has he asked you out?” She accidentally flings dirty dishwater on herself. She screams and jumps back. If she’s trying to get me to take over, it’s not going to happen. This is priceless entertainment.
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“I told him no.”
She turns off the water and drops the cup in her hand into the sink. For a moment, I fear she will never pick it up again. It took her so long to find the dishwasher the first time she might forget.
“Why? Don’t you want to get out there and meet someone?”
I pause too long, so she answers for me.
“Of course you do! It’sone date. What could go wrong?”
I consider crouching beneath the table for when the lightning strikes. “I believe we’ve been here before, and you know exactly what could go wrong.” Psychopath. Death.Need I continue?
Karli gives a slight shake of her head. “Okay, yes, being eaten alive in the desert would be awful.”
