Page 64 of All That Glitters

“Mm-hmm, sure.” He taps the phone on my chest. “Answer your girl who’s not actually your girl because you’re too scared to do what I said.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re insufferable?” I mutter, and pick it up.

“Yes. Paisley. About five minutes ago.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me. “Let me guess, you got her number from my phone and now you’re tormenting her?”

“Was that not what I was supposed to do?” He smirks and shrugs in a far from innocent manner. “My bad.”

I shake my head and open my messages. Nash heads into our kitchen and flips open a pizza box I don’t remember being there.

Marigold: Paisley won’t show me the picture she sent as proof of me sleeping. How bad is it? How many pillows should I throw at her face?

“Paisley sent a picture of Marigold?” I ask Nash as he returns with a slice of pizza and a napkin. He hands them to me. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, and I sent her one of you. Hopefully that was what you meant by a bargain. You didn’t explain much before you crashed.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, swipes a few times, then flips it toward me. Marigold is curled up on a pile of blankets, her red curls splayed across a pillow. She looks relaxed, and the sight makes me smile. I hope this helps her feel better.

“And the one you took of me?” I question.

Nash pockets his phone. “Not for you to see.”

“Did you and Paisley make some kind of pact not to show us?” I let out a frustrated laugh. “I should get to see a picture of myself.”

Nash shrugs. “Too late. I already deleted it. I’m deleting Marigold’s next. I was only waiting to show you.”

“As I said before. You’re insufferable.”

“You know, the word doesn’t sting as much when it’s repeated,” Nash says thoughtfully before walking back into the kitchen and grabbing a slice for himself.

I ignore his stupid smirk and text Marigold back.

Jameson: Nash won’t show me the one he took of me either.

I don’t comment on how she looks, because I won’t lie, and I don’t know that she’s ready to hear—or rather, read—me saying I think she’s the most beautiful woman to ever set foot on the planet.

Marigold: I say we team up and take them both down.

My smile returns at her message. If she’s bringing up the idea of us as a team, maybe she’s softening.

Jameson: And to think I thought getting some sleep would make you less violent.

Marigold: You know me better than to think that.

My chest tightens. I do know her. And I’m tired of holding that in tension with this heartbreaking distance. I set my phone down and let my head fall back against the couch, balancing the pizza on my abdomen. The nap helped, and I’m sure eating will too, but there’s a throbbing pain in my knee and a stabbing pain in my chest.

I can’t keep doing this.

“I tried to tell you,” Nash says from where he’s leaning against the archway to our kitchen. “The longer you drag this out, the worse it’s going to be.”

I know I didn’t say that out loud, so he must just be able to tell from my body language that I’m not doing well.

“I needed to show her that I care about her. I’m glad I’ve taken things slow, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.”

“Paisley said she heard you tossed Marigold over your shoulder. That was after walking, like, five blocks to get to her on an already hurt knee.”

“Yeah?” I push myself more fully upright, grabbing the pizza so it doesn’t fall. “What does that have to do with anything?”