Page 97 of On His Mind

The phone sits heavy in my pocket the rest of the night, and when I’m finally in bed, I pull it out and read the three words again in the dark. Maybe it’s the beer. Maybe it’s that I’ve been holding the line all week and I’m tired. I type back.

Me:That’s good.

I put the phone face down and don’t turn it back over. Two words is all I have.

Chapter 32

Penelope

Ivoryhasbothhandsaround my ankle, and she’s pulling. “Up. Up. It’s nine, you goblin, we have appointments.”

I groan.

“Pedicures at noon, and I want breakfast. Get up.”

I’ve got my face in the pillow, so I mutter into it, “I’m working today.” That’s code for I’m finally drawing again, and she knows it.

“You’ve drawn every night this week like a woman possessed. Let’s get our toes done, so I can tell you everything about Drew.”

I lift my head to see if she’s serious.

She flashes me a smile. “It’s better than it ever has been.”

I let my head fall on the pillow, but I don’t take my eyes off her. “Is he your boyfriend now?”

She shakes me. “No. Get up, so I can tell you everything.”

I’ve been staying up way too late, so my body groans as I sit up. “Okay,” I huff, rubbing my eyes. “Fine, but first, you’re going to do Pilates with me and drink lemon water.”

She rolls her eyes. “Are you trying to kill me?”

I look her dead in the eye. “Thirty minutes. With me. On the mat. Then I’ll get my toes done and listen to whatever garbage Drew Faulkner is feeding you.”

She scoffs in disbelief. “Rude. I hate every single thing about you.” She rolls off my legs. “Fine. Thirty. But if you make me do the leg circles, I’m moving out.”

I reach over to the nightstand for my phone while she’s stomping off, and there’s a text under Ivory’s from last night.

Percy: That’s good.

I look at it and smile into the pillow.

He answered. That’s the thing about Percy — you don’t get a paragraph, you don’t get a follow-up question, you get that’s good at one in the morning and that’s him. Two words from Percy is a warm hand on your back from anyone else. I’ve spent a year and a half learning to read the size of his small things, and this one’s good. I put the phone down still smiling.

“Thirty minutes,” Ivory yells from the other room, “And I’m timing it. If you add one second –– I swear, Penelope! I will start calling you Nelly.”

I chuckle, looking at Percy’s text one more time before I fly out of bed and throw on my activewear.

Ninety seconds into the first hold, her arms are shaking, and she’s narrating her own death.

“I am hungover. You’re the worst person to live with. This is — how is this — my whole body is failing—”

“Breathe out on the effort.”

“I can’t breathe. I’m dying.” She collapses flat on the mat. “Why do you do this to yourself? You’re twenty. Save this for when your joints hate you.”

I hold the plank as she lies next to me in a heap and complains. I ignore her and think about all the work I have to do for the internship.

The nail place is warm and smells like acetone and lavender, and Ivory’s got her feet in the water beside me, scrolling, both of us picked our colors and now we’re just waiting.