Page 90 of The Boyfriend Hypothesis
“Plus you’re not knitting,” Vilma pointed out. “You’re just staring at your needles and frowning.”
Penny sighed and turned over the hat she’d started as a going-away present for George. “I think I hate this color. It’s ugly, right?” It was a variegated green that had seemed nice in the yarn store, but now that it was knit up, looked a little like vomit.
“It’s certainly an interesting choice,” Vilma said diplomatically.
“It’s damn ugly.” Cynthia shook her head as she set her wineglass down. “I didn’t want to say anything if you liked it, but it’s bad.”
“Right?” Penny sighed, plucking at the ugly hat. “I can’t give this to George. I should frog it and start over, shouldn’t I?”
Cynthia shot her a look as she picked up her knitting. “You sure that’s all that’s bothering you?”
Olivia’s eyes met Penny’s across the table, but she kept silent. Penny still hadn’t told the rest of the group about Caleb. At this point, she figured she might as well wait until he was gone. They’d made enough of a fuss over the fact that she’d started wearing her hair curly—she wasn’t in the mood to put her relationship with Caleb under the microscope too.
Penny wrinkled her nose at the ugly hat in her lap. “I’m fine. I’m just annoyed I wasted time and money on this stupid yarn.”
She’d talked to Roxanne before knitting and they’d settled on Thursday afternoon for George’s party. Which meant Penny only had three nights to finish knitting his present. And now she’d have to start over and lose all of tonight’s progress.
“I’ve got a skein of Malabrigo on me.” Olivia dug around in her project bag until she came up with a hank of beautiful hand-dyed charcoal gray wool, which she held out to Penny. “You can use it if you want.”
Penny accepted the soft yarn, squishing it between her fingers in appreciation. “Weren’t you going to use it?”
Olivia shrugged. “You can have it. I’ll be working on this shawl forever anyway.” She smoothed out the shawl she was knitting for her next cosplay: a steampunk version of Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple. “I always seem to get myself into knitting projects that take half an eternity.”
“Thank you,” Penny said, casting a grateful smile at her friend. “I’ll pay you back.”
“Whatever.”
As Penny pulled the ugly hat off her needles and wound the crinkled yarn back into a ball, the conversation drifted to other topics. She made a concentrated effort to speak up more the rest of the night, not wanting to give them any more reason to think something was amiss.
She had to get better at pretending things were fine. She didn’t want to spend her last few days with Caleb sulking and feeling sorry for herself.
When the group broke up for the night an hour later, Olivia fell into step beside her. “I feel like I haven’t seen much of you lately.”
“I’m sorry,” Penny said guiltily. She’d been a terrible friend lately, spending all her time with Caleb.
Olivia pushed the door open and they stepped out into the cool night air. The moon hung low and round in the sky, casting everything in a bluish-silver light. “We should make some time to hang out.”
“Yeah.” Penny cast her eyes at the parking lot. Caleb was sitting in his car, waiting to give her a ride home. He didn’t like her walking alone at night, even just the few blocks back to her apartment. “Definitely.”
Olivia followed Penny’s gaze to where Caleb sat behind the steering wheel of his ten-year-old Camry. He was looking down at his lap, his face lit by the glow from his phone’s screen.
“When does Caleb leave?”
“A week from Thursday.”
Olivia nodded. “Are you going to be okay with that?”
Penny looked down at her feet and shook her head. “Definitely not.”
She felt Olivia squeeze her arm. “I’ll be here when you need me.”
It helped to know someone would be.
Only nine more nights until I lose him, Penny thought as Caleb moved inside her Tuesday night. She clung to him, trying to commit every detail to memory. All too soon, her memories would be all she had.
It was going to break her. She knew that. She’d had the best of intentions going in, but she hadn’t accounted for how strong her feelings for him would be.
She hadn’t expected to fall in love.
