7. Sloane

CHAPTER 7

SLOANE

W ell, cat’s out of the bag now. Cam knows I was engaged and got unceremoniously dumped.

Super. Nothing like putting your best foot forward.

There is one bright spot, though. He can’t have read the World’s Most Embarrassing Email because he acted surprised. Either that or he’s a damn good actor, but I kinda doubt it.

So at least he’s still in the dark about my feelings for him.

Besides, he’s bound to find out about my broken engagement in this tiny town. May as well hear the story straight from the source. I’d rather he get the facts from me and not some wild spin on the truth.

Buzz, buzz.

My cell vibrates in my hand as I walk into the house, the conditioned air chilly on my heated skin.

Bestie: What’s going on? Can you talk?

Sloane: Just got back from the football field

Bestie: CALL ME. Better yet, meet me at Java Jolt

Sloane: Ok, see you in five

I hesitate at the corner of the sofa for a second and debate checking in with Cam. The shower’s already on in the bathroom—he’s probably naked right now. Much as I’d like to bust in, that would be highly inappropriate.

Amazing, but inappropriate.

I settle for knocking on the door.

“Hey, Cam. I’m heading over to Java Jolt to meet Gracelyn. You want anything?”

I pause, waiting for his response.

“I’m good. Thanks.” His deep voice is muffled through the door.

“Okay. If you change your mind, shoot me a text. Or you can meet us up there if you want.” I cringe as soon as the words leave my mouth. Probably being too forward. I’m sure he has better things to do than hang out with me and my best friend.

“Cool, thanks for the invite.”

I relax a little, seeing as he doesn’t seem bothered. I’m just being friendly is all.

Yeah, right. No ulterior motive at all. Has absolutely nothing to do with the rippling muscles clearly outlined beneath his shirt or that sexy smirk.

“I’ll be back.” I wave at the closed door before trotting down the hall and heading out.

Java Jolt is in downtown Thunder Creek, about a five- minute drive from the house in the opposite direction of the school. The downtown’s historic, all red-brick buildings with white awnings over the storefront windows for shade. A narrow sidewalk runs alongside the shops, outlining the town square, a large open lawn in the center for gatherings.

Mid-morning on a Saturday the town square is pretty packed, but I manage to find a parking spot a block away from the coffee shop.

Walking down the street, I pass by places I’ve known my entire life. I do my best to be friendly, waving at people I’ve known since I was in pigtails.

“Hey, Ms. Tilly, how are you?” I shout at the florist sweeping the sidewalk outside her shop. The same flower boxes still decorate the front windows, the blooms rotating seasonally. Pink and white peonies are the special of the day, exploding out of the wooden boxes. She glances up from the broom, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Good, Sloane. You?”

“Can’t complain.”

“Tell your dad hi for us.”

“Will do.”

“Sloane!” Mr. Anderson bellows at me from the hardware store across the street. “How’s the team gonna do next year?” He’s a big supporter of the football program and hasn’t missed a game in fifteen years.

“Not sure, Mr. Anderson. But I’ll report back as soon as I hear anything.”

“’Atta, girl. Go Mustangs!” Pumping his fist in the air, he swings back into the air-conditioned store.

I dodge a runner and a young couple with a stroller before finally hitting Java Jolt. The outside tables sit empty, probably because they’re in direct morning sun and no one wants to sweat this early in the day. I head in and immediately spot Gracelyn sitting at a high top in the corner. She’s already sipping an iced latte and waves a second through the air.

Bestie got me a beverage. Honestly, she’s an amazing friend and I don’t think I’d survive without her.

“Hey, girl, hey!” Gracelyn jumps up from her seat the minute I’m close enough to the table to touch, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. “You look fab. Must be love…” She waggles her eyebrows and I punch her in the arm.

“Stop! Sit down, everyone’s staring,” I hiss, slinking onto the stool.

“No, they’re not. And even if they were, you know I wouldn’t give a hoot.”

“Yes, but I do. Sit…” I motion at her empty seat and fan my face, cheeks flaming.

“So…how’s Cam? Did he come with you?” She whips her head around, glancing over both her shoulders, sending her golden curls flying.

“No, he’s back home taking a shower.” I sip my latte, enjoying the instant hit of caffeine and sugar.

“Ohhh, a shower. Sexy.” She leans in, her nose almost touching mine. “I’m disappointed you didn’t join him.”

“Stop! It’s my dad’s house, I can’t do that!”

“Wait—what? Cam Crawford’s taking a shower at your house?”

“Correction: my DAD’S house. I just happen to be living there temporarily.”

“Fine, whatever. That’s not the interesting part of that sentence. Let’s circle back to Cam.” She draws a tight loop in the air with her finger.

“Cam’s staying with us for a while.”

“Oh my god, spill. Right now.” Gracelyn clutches my forearm, literally sitting on the edge of her seat. I swear, she’s my best audience.

I take another sip of my drink, debating how much to say. I don’t want to break his confidence and share details he’d rather not be made public. But Gracelyn is my best friend and word about Cam’s bound to spread through town fast as wildfire.

“He got cut from his team. He needs help with his game, so he came back home to work with my dad.”

“Of course he did.” She rolls her eyes, annoyed on my behalf.

And that’s why we’re best friends. She gets it—the feeling of being an afterthought, outshined by your own father.

“So—this has nothing to do with the email you sent then?” Grace narrows her eyes.

“No.” I fold the edge of the napkin beneath my drink into a perfect white triangle, then unfold it again. “I don’t think he even read it.”

“What? How do you know?”

“I had an overshare moment this morning. I told him I was engaged and then Ratface cheated on me and I broke it off. He acted like that was news to him.”

“Oh.”

“Honestly, I wish I could unsend the damn thing. Tequila’s the sole reason that email’s out in the universe.”

“No, uh-uh. The universe knows you’ve been in love with Cam Crawford practically your entire life. Breaking up with Ratface was a huge blessing—look who was delivered to your doorstep! It’s fate, Sloane.”

“Ssh,” I tsk, urging her to lower her voice at least two decibels. She gets high-pitched when she’s excited and that sound carries like you wouldn’t believe. “I agree that breaking up with Ratface was a blessing in disguise. However, Cam showing up is a coincidence. And he’s not interested, anyway. Did you miss the part about how he’s here to work with my dad, his coach?”

“Pish-posh. I’m sure he thinks you’re hot and would be more than happy to date you.”

“Highly doubt it, but thanks for the vote of confidence.” I sit back, checking my cell for any missed texts. Nothing.

“What’s the game plan? You going to ask about the email? Or just come right out and tell him how you feel?”

“No and no.” I tick both options off in the air with my index finger.

“What? C’mon, Sloane! You can’t piss away this golden opportunity. It’s your chance to get the guy!”

“Grace, you watch too many rom-coms. That doesn’t happen in real life. In real life, your ratface fiancé screws the secretary on his desk. In real life, a boring girl like me does not get the pro football player, the homecoming king, the town golden boy.”

“And why not?”

“Because I’m average. A plain Jane. Nothing special. Once you see Cam again, you’ll get it. He’s a ten and I’m about a five.”

“You’re selling yourself way short, Sloane. You’re at least an eight. Could be a ten with the glow-up we talked about last night at Mustang’s. ”

“I love you, but you’re delulu. Fake lashes and blonde highlights will not make me a ten.”

“You’re wrong. Let me do it, please?” She folds her hands, begging. “Come into the salon and I’ll fix you up.”

“Maybe.” I twirl my ponytail, doubting Gracelyn’s assessment of the situation. “But back to the Cam thing—besides the fact that he dates beyond-gorgeous models, he’s really focused on football right now. He’s trying to get picked up by a new team—I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“Cam’s a big boy. He can decide if he wants to be distracted or not.” She folds her arms over her ample chest, head bobbing.

Grace does have a point. Although I’d feel awful if professional football didn’t work out for Cam. I know how much he wants it—has always wanted it—and there’s no way I would stand between him and the sport he loves.

“It’s Saturday. Invite him out tonight. There’s a bonfire at the lake. You two should come—unless you’d rather sit at home with your dad and talk running routes.”

Shoving the straw up and down in my cup, the plastic lid shrieks as I contemplate. I shake what’s left of the ice and it rattles against the plastic.

Damn, she has a bunch of good points today.

“Fine. I’ll ask if he wants to go. Fifty-fifty chance he’ll stay home with my dad, but I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Yes!” She raises her hand for a high-five and I humor her, slapping her open palm.

“Want me to give you a blowout for the occasion? I am a professional, after all. I think I have some lashes left over from last weekend’s prom, too.”

Gracelyn works with her mom at the only salon in town. She’s been doing my hair since we were little girls, but now she has a shiny beauty school diploma hanging on her wall declaring her state-licensed ability to do so.

“I’ll handle my hair, but thanks.”

“You know where I live if you change your mind.” Her cell buzzes, vibrating on the tabletop, and she quickly reads the text. “Sorry, babe, but I have to jet. Much as I’d love to sit around and chat about Cam all day, I promised my mom I’d help her with the Field wedding this afternoon. See you later?”

“Absolutely. Eight?”

“Yep, eight at the lake.”

She gives me another quick hug, then sashays out the door. I check my own cell one more time, but still nothing.

Standing, I decide to hit the restroom before heading home. I toss my cup into the trash and make my way down the narrow hallway to the lone bathroom. Knocking, I try the door, but it’s locked.

“Just a sec,” a voice calls out and I slump back against the wall, waiting. I stare at the bulletin board directly in front of me, taking up most of the wall space. A flyer for summer camp’s pinned to the board next to another advertising a new dog-walking service. A poster for the local art show next week hangs in the corner and next to it is a bright yellow sheet of paper.

Love to read? Have book recs you want to share? Come join the team at the library! We’re looking for part-time help this summer at the Thunder Creek branch. Position available immediately.

A fringe of identical phone numbers hangs off the ad, begging to be pulled.

What the hell. I’ve been sitting around my dad’s house moping for far too long. I do love the library–reading’s totally my jam–and there aren’t a ton of job prospects available within a fifty-mile radius. Maybe this is exactly the type of thing I need right now. Low-stress but fulfilling and also kind of fun. Plus, I’m not exactly dying to leave Thunder Creek, given the current Cam situation. Gracelyn got that part right, at least.

Tearing off a sunshiney rectangle with the number to the local library, I shove the paper in my pocket.