Page 30 of Forest Proximity

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MARLOW:

Those were his exact words?

ME:

Ughhhhhh.

ME:

He asked if I want to join him. Happy?

DIANA:

Oh, that’s a date.

MARLOW:

Is he picking you up?

Then, like he was summoned by the universe to put a stop to the madness, I get a message from Adam.

SHIRTLESS ADAM:

I’ll meet you in the parking area at eight.

I’ll never admit to my friends that their texts had ignited the tiniest spark of curiosity in my chest and Adam’s message doused it with cold water. Usually, I love being right. Not this time, though.

With a heavy sigh, I screenshot the whole text exchange with Adam, sending it to my friends with the caption “See? He didn’t ask me on a date. Womp womp.”

This is good. I’m not going on a date with him, and I wouldn’t anyway. I mentally review my ongoing list of reasons Adam and I would never work: He doesn’t wear a shirt. He’s a tad bossy. The end. It’s not a long list.

With that in mind, I set my phone on the counter and blow-dry my hair until the screen lights up with another message a few minutes later.

SHIRTLESS ADAM:

Was that meant for me?

I stare at the phone in confusion until his question and my message that preceded it finally clicks.

Aw, crap.

Instead of sending the screenshot of my texts with Adam to my friends, I sent it toAdam—with an absolutely incriminating caption.

He didn’t ask me on a date. Womp womp.

“Aaaaaaaaaack!” I scream at the ceiling.

Not only that, but now he can see his contact name in my phone: Shirtless Adam, with two biceps emojis.

I holler at the ceiling again. “Why am I the way that I am?”

There is no reasonable explanation for what I’ve done.

With a groan, I hammer out a message containing as much of the horrifying truth as I’m willing to admit.

ME:

My friends thought you asked me on a date. I was just showing them that you didn’t.

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