~~~This is a prequel, spin-off from Ties~~~
Briar Hayes has lived her entire life being polite, never daring to express the crazy and wild thoughts running laps in her head. At almost twenty-five, stuck in the throes of monotony, she finally snaps...
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* I toss Court, who's standing at the side of my bed, one of my meanest, lip-snarled looks. She pops a shoulder with a satisfied grin.
My phone lies flat on the mattress, and I confirm the vid chat has ended. Better close the app. Actually, let's power this thing off—desperate measures.
After my splendid friend had informed us of our new weekend plans—which I'm not hating—I developed a severe case of the stutter bug. Yes, I understand karmic acts. I'd jolted up abruptly at this forced revelation. Not that I don't want to go, of course I do. But tomorrow?
Trey had blinked away his surprise, remaining calm, as he listened. I noticed the gray walls offsetting his navy comforter, and my lips, despite mimicking a goldfish, tugged to a grin.
My favorite color scheme.
Court made quick work of booking a nonrefundable ticket. She said Heath, her husband, had a couple appointments in the morning but could give me a ride to the airport. She may have some of the fastest and most skillful texting fingers north of the Mason-Dixon. We know who holds that rank on the opposite side. Not that he texts fast, I wouldn't know. But I'm talking about... never mind.
It's like she predicted any and every excuse I'd try to come up with before the words pieced together in my racing mind and exited my mouth.
I'd offered to search for a hotel, being last minute and whatnot, while struggling to ignore the stampede of butterflies in my belly, and definite awakening in my own southern region.
Court had swatted my arm when I stammered over my words. She threw a look at me, then him, suggesting Trey could handle the bedroom arrangements. She concluded with a double wink, which he returned with a laugh, gesturing his agreement.
Why's he so much more chill?
We ended the video call with both of us appearing bewildered on the screen. Yeah, it was just me. Talk about being put on the spot. I caught a hint of excitement—I'm hoping—when Trey said he'd be there at six and would meet me at the arrivals area.
Before I could backpedal or produce an acceptable excuse, Court announced I had to go, that her clock was ticking, and we'd have plenty of time to play this weekend.
I smack a palm against my forehead with a groan. "Don't you think... Wasn't that a bit..." I drag my eyes to meet hers as she slugs a swig from the almost empty wine bottle. "Maybe a little forward?"
She wipes the back of her arm across her lips then smirks. "Someone had to do something about the pussy-footing. It was like eavesdropping on a middle-school-crush conversation. And since we're discussing pussy."
"We're not."
"I am." She sticks out her tongue. "Time to weed your lady garden."
