Page 155 of Never Not Friends

She shifts her eyes to me for a second then focuses back on the road and shrugs. “You can play that song if you want.”

“Done.” I scroll through her music app until I find it then press play.

We listen for a minute until the chorus hits.

Emma reaches for the volume knob at the exact same time I do.

Our fingers bump.

She looks at me.

I look at her.

We both pull back.

“What about you?” she asks. “You were a big fan of Fall Out Boy. Do you still listen to their music?”

I laugh. “No, but good pull from the past.”

“I know a lot about you too, Vinny.”

She shoots me the most adorable, cocky side smile, completely stealing my breath. And don’t think I didn’t notice she said “know” instead of “remember,” as if she’s been silently tracking my life from the sidelines for years.

“So what does cleaning out a chinchilla cage require exactly?”

“I don’t know.” She grimaces, and even that kills me. “Full transparency: I haven’t cleaned it yet.”

“And how long have you had Chili?”

“Almost five weeks.”

“Could be the reason why it’s stinking up your little apartment.”

“I know, but I’ve been so busy with the wed—” She stops herself.

“You can say wedding, you know? If anyone should be able to talk about it, it’s us.”

She pulls into her driveway and parks her car. I notice the slight shift of her gaze to Juliet’s house before she turns and faces me. “But can we not talk about it? At least not right now? Or today?”

“I think we should talk about it eventually.”

“I agree. I just…” she sighs. “Can we just be two friends hanging out on a Friday afternoon, cleaning a chinchilla cage?”

“Friends?”

“That’s what we’ve been.” Her shoulders lift. “Maybe that’s where we should start back at.”

“Okay.”

“Deal?” She holds out her hand like she means to shake on it.

I slip my fingers in hers, slowly closing them around her hand. We’re basically holding hands, not shaking them. There’s an instant thrill from the warmth of her skin against mine and a sudden rush at the excitement of something new.

My stare lingers on hers. “Deal.”

Her fingers don’t pull away.

Neither do mine.