Seven Weeks to Forever (Love / Romance)

Chapter Twenty

The morning is already ridiculously warm when I wake up. There's a note on the kitchen table from my aunt telling me she's gone for a spa day at some place in Beverly Hills that I'm sure she'll find everything wrong with. Good. This means I'm wearing her down.

Not enough, though. The note warns me she'll be back in time for dinner. Guess I'll have to try harder. I can think about how I'm going to do that while I sit by the pool, loving her absence and the hot weather. After changing into a bikini, I grab a towel, a book, and some sunscreen, and then I head outside.

I get in about twenty minutes of reading before a text message alert pulls me out of the story and back into the real world. I pick up my phone. It's a message from Riley.

Did you know nothing rhymes with the word "orange"?

I shake my head. I know he's supposed to be filling in for the receptionist at his parents' studio all this week, but he can't be busy if he's pondering rhymes.

Slacker. Boring day at the studio? Send.

My phone chimes again. Nope. Boring morning writing lyrics.

You aren't working? Weird. I send the message. It's about a minute before I get another text.

Riley: Laryngitis. Can't answer the phone when people call, and can't answer any questions anyone at the studio has for me without writing everything down. Got kicked out by my mom.

Me: How'd you lose your voice? Are you sick?

Riley: Nope, blew out my voice singing. The doc says not to use my voice at all for the next 36 hours.

Me: Yikes.

Riley: It's harder than you'd think. I'm getting good at being a mime.

Me: I'll bet. So does this mean you're going to text me all day?

Riley: Pretty much. What are you doing?

Me: Hanging out at my pool. Want to join me?

Riley: I can't use my voice.

Me: You're right. Sitting by a pool definitely requires screaming at the top of your lungs. Karaoke, too.

Riley: You and your sarcasm.

Me: You know I'm right. It's 92 degrees.

Riley: You're right that it's 92 degrees.

Me: So why are you sitting in your apartment and texting me when you could be outside sitting by a pool and probably still texting me from right beside me?

Riley: It's the principle of the thing.

Me: Don't say I didn't offer when you're melting this afternoon.

Riley: Be there in half an hour.

I set my phone down on the lounge chair, catching sight of my reflection on the screen. I'm smiling. I guess I do that when I win.

I keep reading until the heat makes me feel like it's entirely possible I'll melt into my chair. Pool time. I get up and jump into the water, feet first. Just as my head starts to go underwater, I hear my phone chime. Once I'm back above the surface, I swim over to the side of the pool and hoist myself out.

I read the message from Riley. I'm in your driveway. I can't really yell for you.

Droplets of water fall from my hair onto the screen. I reach for a towel to dry myself off. My hair still dripping wet, I walk across the sundeck and into the house, making my way to the front door. I'm suddenly aware of how little of me my bikini covers, and that Riley's never seen me anything but fully clothed. Not that I know why this matters. It must be the heat. Still, I wrap the towel around my waist before opening the door.