Page 65 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess
“Are you okay?” she says. “You sound weird.”
I clear my throat. “I’m fine. Just tired.” It’s only partially a lie; I don’t know howfineI am, but I’m definitely tired. I go on, “Do you want to shower first? We’ll need to get ready for the wedding soon.”
She nods, and it’s with relief and confusion that I watch her go to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. I slump back on the couch, exhaling slowly.
It looks like things just got more complicated—and much,muchmore interesting.
Fifteen
Maya
As soon asI get out of the shower, I call Scarlett.
I was going to call her earlier, after Dex left to go help his mom with who-knows-what, but I decided to give myself some time on my own to mull things over.
Thingslike the feeling of Dex’s lips brushing the side of my neck as he tells me, more earnestly than I’ve ever heard him speak, that he thinks I’m “perfect.”
Thingslike my undeniable gratitude when he speaks so candidly, so openly, about my “mom bod.”
Thingslike his serious, stolid face lit up as he makes silly faces at my son.
“Scarlett,” I whisper-shout into the phone. “We have an emergency.”
“Oh, my goodness,” she says, alert and serious, and I picture her red hair swinging as she sits up straight, ready to jump into action. “What happened? Is it Archer? Is he okay? Are you okay? Did something happen with Dex? Do you need me to come get you? Because I will drop everything and come pick you upright nowif he so much as laid an unwanted hand—”
“No, no, Scarlett,” I say, cutting her off. I pause, then say, “You’re an amazing friend, by the way, but no, none of that. Dex would never.”
“Oh, good,” she says, sounding relieved. “I didn’t think he would, either, but you never know. Everyone thought Ted Bundy was a great guy, untilbam—psycho serial killer. Butgood. In that case, what’s up? What’s the emergency?”
I swallow, then force myself to speak. “I think maybe you were right. I might have a little crush. Just alittleone,” I stress. “Tiny.”
I have to pull the phone away from my ear when Scarlett cheers.
“I knew it!” she says when she’s finished making enough noise to alert Dex from all the way in the other room. “I knew it. Your words were plus-minus about him, but your voice wasn’t. You sounded like you had stars in your eyes when you mentioned he had a nice laugh. No one gets starry-eyed over someone’s laugh if they don’t have at least alittlecrush. You guys would beso goodtogether, Maya—”
“Scar,” I say warningly.
“Ugh,” she says, but it’s more playful than annoyed. “All right, fine. I won’t push. But at least tell me how things have been going?”
I play with the ends of my damp hair as I say, “It’s going well, I think. His mom doesn’t like me—”
“She didn’t like me either,” Scarlett interjects. “It means nothing.”
I’m going to let that little nugget slide until I can ask about it in a minute. “I came to basically the same conclusion,” I admit. “And Dex doesn’t seem worried at all. He’s been—I mean, we’ve been…flirting, I guess.” I sigh. “And kind of cuddly, you know, sort of touchy-feely? Because we’re pretending to be together. But then sometimes it happens when no one is there to see us. And the man has been putting outvibes, Scarlett. Major vibes.”
“Details. Now. Talk.”
There’s something so wonderful about this conversation—something so normal and wholesome about girl talk with my best friend—that a giddy smile spreads over my face. “I don’t know,” I say. “A lot of I-want-to-kiss-you vibes. And honestly, I can’t be sure I’m not sending them right back. There’s alotof flirting going on, Scarlett.”
“Wow,” she says, sounding a little awestruck. “The thought of Dex flirting just doesn’t evencompute. Is there a secret flirty side there I never knew about? Or is he bad at it?”
“He’s so good at it,” I say, groaning and flopping backward on the bed. “And sometimes—I don’t know.” I hesitate, feeling suddenly unsure. “Maybe I’m imagining it. But sometimes he gets this look in his eyes like he’s two seconds away from kissing me—”
“Lovethat,” Scarlett says enthusiastically. “Weird to think about Dex doing it, but I love it.”
“Plus I fully dreamed about kissing him last night,” I say. The details of that dream are hazy, but I remember enough to know that it happened, and it wasn’t just a peck on the lips.
“Excellent!” Scarlett says. “He’s invaded your subconscious.”
