Hot Mess (LBSC #1) | Completed

Chapter 23

"Okay, tell me everything," Zoey said, blowing on her Americano. "I need all the details. I have to live vicariously through you since Hayden never does anything romantic more."

I hid a smug grin behind my mug, glad our roles had finally reversed. At least for the time being.

Zoey had convinced me to play hooky from yoga, so instead of stretching and breathing we were sitting in one of Cuppa's window seats sharing some quiet time before she went to work and I called up my old friend, Netflix.

"Well," I said, savoring the moment. "He picked me up—in his brother's car again—and took me to the Wyndlake Local Music Festival. It was really cute; he brought a blanket and an actual picnic basket."

Zoey squealed and balled up her hands. "He sounds amazing."

I gave a blissful sigh and tried to wipe the dopey grin off my face but it wasn't going anywhere. "Zo, I think I'm falling for him."

Zoey's smile dimmed. "Reese, it's been, what, not even a week? You can't be serious."

My smile hardened. "Why not?"

Zoey held up a finger. "Um, one, you've only been seeing him for five days." She held up another finger. "Two, you barely know anything about him."

I snorted. "How would you know? You're never around anymore."

Zoey rolled her eyes. "You've used that excuse a million times. Please give me something new to work with."

"Anyway," I continued pointedly, "I know plenty about Javi."

"Oh yeah? What's his middle name?"

I threw my hands up in the air. "Why the hell would I know that? We only met a week ago!"

Zoey thew her hands up in the air. "Exactly my point! So what do you know? What's he do for a living? Where'd he go to school? Does he have any brothers or sisters?"

I crossed my arms. Why did I have to prove anything to Zoey? Why couldn't she just be happy I found someone I really liked?

"He's a clown, he went to Braemore, and he's got a delinquent younger brother," I shot back. "That answer your questions, detective?"

Zoey narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. "What do you mean 'he's a clown'?"

I shrugged a shoulder and twisted the coffee stirrer in my mug.

"Like a birthday clown. That's what he does for a living," I mumbled. I looked anywhere but at Zoey. She was no snob, but I knew how she'd respond. She'd wrinkle her nose and chew on her lip while coming up with a good argument against him. She'd done it time and time again with each successive bum I'd brought home in my early twenties.

"And you don't see anything wrong with that?" she finally asked, eyebrows knitted.

"No," I said firmly. "If he's willing to date a bartender, I can date a clown. I can teach him how to make a mean sidecar and he can teach me how to make balloon animals or something. Stop being classist, Zoey."

"I'm not trying to rain on your parade, I just want you to be careful before you get so attached. You're well on your way to getting a new job; do you think you'll feel the same way when you're making more money than him? You probably already are," she said. "Do you want to ride around in his brother's car forever? What if he doesn't even have one?"

"So what if he doesn't? At least one of us does. If I don't care about it you shouldn't either," I fired back. I took a deep, calming breath and let myself pretend I was floating in the shallow, warm waters of the Caribbean like Daisy had taught me. I reached over and placed a hand on Zoey's foreram.