Mark My Words

38 | Pittmen Party Crashers

    As she yanked her sweatshirt off, she pointed a finger at him and said, "I am not participating in breaking Harper and Lennie up."

    "So be it," he said, digging into the Target bag. He tossed a collared shirt at her and added, "They're gonna do it with or without you—I'm just the messenger pigeon."

    Rosalie pursed her lips and held the shirt up. She set it on the post of her bed frame and removed her shirt as Sami shrugged on a flannel shirt over his t-shirt. As he buttoned it up, Rosalie tugged on the tan, colored shirt and said, "Who am I supposed to be anyways?"

    She didn't find out until after the costume was put together and they met with Joanna on the first floor, who held out her phone to Rosalie. Her lock screen showed the cartoon character wearing the exact same outfit as Rosalie, and the exact same letterman jacket Joanna wore now with an M stitched to the chest.

    Rosalie lifted her eyes with a dull, unimpressed scowl. "Marceline and Bubblegum?"

    Joanna dropped her phone to her side with narrow eyes. "It's as overtly gay as we can get right now, alright? Just go along with it."

    Rosalie frowned, looking down at the cowboy boots Sami got for the occasion. She turned a sour look onto Sami, who shrugged in the process of zipping his jacket up. Joanna went on with a sigh, "It's a persona, Rosie. Besides, you look good in cowboy boots."

    Rosalie sucked in a breath that held all of the implications she feared. Thankfully, Sami got the hint the second her brain started screaming to the Heavens. "As lovely as your flirting is, we need to go. Like, now if we plan on getting any of the party snacks," he said, stepping between them and urging Joanna to the door with a shove in the shoulder that twisted her around and away from where Rosalie turned red as a beet.

    She put a hand to her flaming cheeks and followed them out into the night. She took her time turning off the foyer lights and locking the front door as a means of collecting her bearings. Still, she couldn't banish the sensation that she had with her crushes on Lennie—the shock that came with the realization that, "Wow, Joanna actually hit on me!" It was childish of her to overreact like this, but it only magnified at the vivid reminder of when Joanna tricked her into thinking that her first kiss was going to be with Joanna.

    As she turned from the door, pocketing her keys, she stopped at the sight of her bed comforter still lying out on the porch. It was Khoshekh's favorite spot to sleep, but since that hadn't been enough to bring him back, there still lied the growing collection of toys and pillows that he favored.

    "Hey Killer, come on!" Joanna shouted from down the walkway.

    Rosalie scratched at her hair as she stepped down from the porch and hurried after them. Sami's car waited on the driveway, and Joanna was quick to swing into the backseat. Rosalie took this chance to claim the passenger's seat and reserve a brief second to sigh in relief before realizing that of course Joanna would lean up on the center console to control the music selection.

    Joanna squeezed between the front seats with her elbows perched on the armrest. She plugged in her phone with an evil cackle as Sami started up the car for a long and painful drive in which Rosalie tried (and failed) to stop her body from shivering at every contact between her shoulder and Joanna's.

    What was it about crushes that made Rosalie lose all sense of reality? It was like the rational part of her brain went on vacation to let the rest of her simultaneously combust at the very thought of Joanna Spencer complimenting her. She knew the crush was mutual, so why did these nerves suddenly matter?