The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2) (10 page)

It didn't rinse away, but I don't really need to tell you that, do I?

I stepped out of the shower and stared at my bag. I brought the entire thing into the bathroom so I'd have options. Because out of nowhere, I needed options. I never needed options before. I never cared. Now I cared.

Again. Nausea.

I shoved on a pair of pajamas. The ugliest I could find. Well, ugliest to Donovan. My Batman pajamas were pretty sweet, if you ask me. I got the fabric and made them myself and although they were kinda nerdy—I admit it, yeah—I still loved them. But I love nerdy people. Nerdy people are always more interesting.

So, Batman pajamas and all, I finally went out to the bedroom.

"Oh, no." He covered his eyes. "Not the Batman ones."

"What do you mean?" I dropped my bag in the corner. "They're all Batman."

"Some are ... better than those."

"These are my favorite."

"I think it's just the cape that steps it up into weirdo range."

I sat on the edge of the bed. "You know you love it."

"Actually." He poked my rib. "I always did think you looked cute in these."

Donovan called me "cute" a trillion times in my life, but now it sounded real. For the first time.

"Are you and Zoe still technically together?" I said.

"No. I don't think so."

"How can you not think so? Why don't you know so?"

"We haven't officially said it, but I don't want to be with her anymore. I think we drove each other nuts."

"Why don't you ever listen to me?"

He took my arm into his hand and pulled me near him. "Cuddle me and watch Michael Scott make an idiot of himself."

"But you never listen to me." I slipped under the covers beside his warm body. "You always date girls that are horrible for you and then you think every single one of them is the one you want to marry, only to realize by week two that you're done." I sighed. "Now what am I gonna do about her living with me?"

He pressed my head against his chest. "Shhhh...."

"Let me pick your next girlfriend."

His chest jerked with a quiet laugh. "Maybe if you stop talking now."

Ear against his t-shirt, I settled my hand on his chest. Right above my eyes, right over his heart. I missed this. I really did. But it was getting weirder, because I was getting weirder. That Alistair really messed me up.

I pretended to laugh at
The Office
whenever Donovan laughed, but I was so distracted by his breath hitting the top of my head and his heartbeat under my palm that I couldn't look away from my hand as it rose and fell with every inhale and exhale.

What if I did love Donovan all along? What if Alistair walked into my life to awaken my heart so that I could finally see my best friend the way I was meant to?

He laughed, shaking us both until it subsided into a whimper. He reached his arm over me so that it pressed against my head as he wiped his eyes. We always laughed so hard we cried whenever
The Office
was on.

I reached up and wiped his eyes for him. He didn't notice. It was normal. Everything was normal to him.

But it was different to me now.

So different. So weird.

I woke up in the middle of the night to his typical snore fest and all I could think about was Autumn's mom kicking her husband's shin to make him quiet up. I laughed into the pillow as I imagined doing the same thing to Donovan, but couldn't bring myself to do it. No matter how many times the prank master pulled stuff on me. But ... I could do something else.

I turned to face him and he continued to snore, unaffected by my movements. So I tickled his nose with the ends of my hair and even tugged on his eyelashes and lifted his eyes. Man, I wished I had those kind of sleeping powers. He still didn't budge so I flipped my arms back and screamed at the top of my lungs, realizing in that split second that I was in a hotel, not the wilderness, and someone was probably going to call the cops.

Donovan flailed and shot up on his knees, his eyes darting in every direction possible. He clutched his chest and caught my suppressed laughter.

"What the hell was that?" He yanked the covers away from my face and pressed my arms above my head. "Now you're getting it."

He pinned me down, climbed on top of me, and tickled me until I couldn't breathe. Our faces were inches from each other and his chest was touching mine.

Feelings. Not worms. Butterflies.

I didn't like the feeling.

I stared into his eyes and saw little glimmers of light from the window behind us. He looked at me. Everything stood quiet and still. Time, us, the buzzing air conditioner. Everything stopped.

Does he know?

His smile officially disappeared.

Another comfortable awkward moment.

Maybe too comfortable.

He opened his mouth ever so slightly and moved toward me, then moved back and stared at me for a reaction that I didn't give. He was so close I could only stare at one eye at a time. So I chose the right one. Then the left.

Then he rolled over to his side of the bed and moved my hair to the side of my face. I curled up on my side and faced him. He faced me. The moonlight poured in from the windows and flickered on his skin.

I watched him.

He watched me.

And I fell asleep like that. With his fingers tangled in my hair and his eyes roaming my face. And I liked it. Like
that
, I mean.

Can you believe it?

I actually liked it.

I woke to the sun beating on my face and Donovan snoring in my ear. Again. Pet peeve of mine and it always drove me crazy before. But that was before. And now ... now was bizarro. Now I watched him sleep for a few minutes. I thought of Alistair and wondered if I should contact him. Maybe all of this Alistair stuff was making me crazy and a quick email with him would calm me down. I couldn't possibly have feelings—
those
kind of feelings—for Donovan.

His eyelids fluttered a little before he opened them, then saw the sun beaming into his eyes and pulled the blankets over his head.

"What do you wanna do today?" His voice was muffled through the blankets.

"Don't know. Any ideas?"

"Um." He flipped the blankets off and squinted. "For starters, food. A big, huge breakfast at a nice diner. A real diner."

"Okay. We came all the way to New York for a breakfast we could have at home. Sounds like us."

"Well, we could ride the subway and take a walk in Central Park."

"Sounds exciting." I laughed. "How about a Broadway show? Or a symphony? Or how about we walk the boutiques so I can get some inspiration?"

"Right." He pulled the blankets back up. "What you said."

"Man." Donovan stepped out into the hustle and bustle of New York City's gum-covered sidewalk. "It's raining now."

"Oh." I jumped out into the rain. "I love it. Rain is perfect for a New York tour."

"Not without an umbrella."

"Look at you." I moved a single curl from his forehead. "Hair wet. See." I spun in a circle with my arms outstretched. "This is perfect."

"If you say so." He laughed. "Where to?"

"Follow me."

We walked the streets of SoHo as people hurried by us, tucked under umbrellas or newspapers. Donovan looked up and commented on how enormous the buildings were. They felt monstrous even compared to the bigger ones from Philly. Something about New York seems bigger, like you can reach out and touch it, feel it, but it will always keep a piece of itself hidden, incapable of being found. I liked that about it.

"I want to be like New York," I said as the rain trickled down my face.

"Busy, dirty, and overrated?"

I smiled. "Romantic, worn, and mysterious."

"Romantic?"

"Yeah."

"Worn?"

"Yeah, like ... well-lived. Kinda like a favorite pair of shoes."

"Or Batman pajamas."

"Or those."

"You're definitely mysterious."

"I try."

Donovan's nose led us into a bakery. Fine-crafted breads sat on counters, waiting to be torn open and eaten. But they were almost too beautiful to eat.

Almost.

We got two. They were gone before we walked out. Then we ended up at a quaint little place called Spring Street Natural. Cute. We sat at a table for two and I ordered French toast while he got some sort of monstrous breakfast dish.

He rubbed his stomach and leaned back in his chair. "Can't wait for that."

I put my elbows on the table and put my chin in my hands. "So."

"So?"

"Heard from Zoe? What am I supposed to do when we get back?"

"She texted me. Said she was sorry and that she knows how important you are to me and that she trusts us both."

I nodded, thinking back to our tickle fight last night.

"She knows I don't have feelings for you anymore, but I guess it's just been eating at her all this time."

Why did it feel like someone just threw ice water on my chest? "Okay," I said. "So you're getting back together? When will you realize that she's not good for you?"

"I'm not getting back with her." He sipped his orange juice. "I know what I want in a woman."

"And what's that? Boobs and legs?"

He laughed. "I prefer the other body parts too."

"You always date girls who are super pretty and super annoying."

"Not Ursula."

"No. She was nice."

"But the name...."

"The name was beautiful in its own way."

His steamy plate of everything was placed in front of him and my yummy French toast was set in front of me. We both dug right in and didn't speak. So hungry. When we finished sharing each other's meals, he pushed his plate toward me and asked what I wanted in a man.

I laughed.

"Alistair Anonymous?"

"Maybe." I caught an old couple across the room while they were staring at us. I smiled. They waved and smiled back.

Donovan turned around and waved too. "What was that all about?"

"Just friendly, I guess."

We finished our drinks and asked for the bill, but the waitress said it was taken care of and handed Donovan a paper. He read it, smiled, and handed it to me. In scratchy, barely legible writing it said:

You make a beautiful young couple and we can see the love so strong in your eyes when you smile at each other. It reminded us of when we first met in 1953. When you find someone that makes you smile like that you don't ever let them go. Thank you for the reminder of our early days in love. This breakfast is our treat. Enjoy!

"Awww...." I said.

"I knew you'd say that."

"I'm a girl in some ways."

He laughed. "Ready to go, my young love?"

I looked at my phone. "Yeah. Plenty of time to check out some boutiques before the orchestra is on."

He offered me his arm. I linked mine and thought of Alistair. The time he elbowed my boob and looked like a poor, stuttery Hugh Grant character.

Maybe I'd send him an email tonight. Maybe I wouldn't.

I figured I'd let the symphony decide for me. Music had a way of helping me realize how I felt when I couldn't understand myself.

The rain calmed a little, but still sent droplets down our cheeks as we walked in and out of fine boutiques.