CHAPTER 1
Where on earth was Regan? A surprise party was hard to pull off when the unsuspecting guest of honor was late.
Kylie paced her room and checked the messaging app on her phone for the fifth time.
Still not a peep from her best friend.
Before she could text her again, her phone rang with the Rizzoli and Isles theme tune. “Regan! Finally! Where are you?”
“Whoa, hold your horses. I’m on my way.” Traffic sounds indicated that Regan was in the car and had her phone connected to Bluetooth. “Since when are you so eager to get to Home Depot?”
They weren’t going to Home Depot; that was only the excuse Ky had used so she could lure Regan to their favorite neighborhood restaurant, where their friends were waiting. “What can I say? It’s a lesbian thing.”
Regan chuckled. “Sorry to make you wait for your happy place. It really wasn’t my fault. Mrs. Kallmaker wanted to have a talk just as I was getting ready to leave.”
“You got called into the principal’s office?” Laughter bubbled up from deep in Ky’s chest, and every bit of tension fled her body. “Some things never change.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Regan said but didn’t manage to sound very innocent at all.
“Oh yeah? Let’s see… There was the time you talked me into replacing all the markers from the whiteboard with tampons, the time when you thought TP-ing the gym was a bright idea, and I lost track of all the times we ended up in detention for being late or passing notes in class.”
Regan laughed. “Okay, okay, I might have gotten in trouble a time or two.”
“A time or two?” Ky echoed. “Ha! The only reason you weren’t in trouble every single day as a kid was because you fooled everyone with those big, brown eyes, cute nose, and perfect-angel curls of yours! I still can’t believe you became a teacher, much less our district’s Teacher of the Year!”
“What can I say? Must be my big, brown eyes.”
Even without seeing her, Ky knew Regan was batting her eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion.
Truth be told, in Ky’s admittedly biased opinion, no one deserved that award more than Regan. She was an amazing teacher who cared deeply for her students and always went the extra mile for them. Maybe if Ky had had a teacher like that, she wouldn’t have almost dropped out of high school.
“You okay?” Regan asked.
Ky cleared her throat. “Yeah.” She left her room to grab her jacket. Since she lived only half a mile from Hamilton High School, Regan should be pulling up any second. Her roommate was lounging on the couch, headphones on, so Ky merely waved as she passed her. “So, what did Mrs. Kallmaker want? You aren’t really in trouble, are you?”
“Define trouble.”
Ky grinned. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I just gave an interview to our school newspaper, and apparently, someone’s mom didn’t like my answer to one of the questions.”
“Oh, let me guess.” Ky left their ground-floor apartment to wait for Regan outside. “The article’s dramatic headline was ‘Popular chemistry teacher Ms. Romano is having a sordid fling with Kylie Wells, the irresistible lunch lady.’”
Regan’s booming laugh blasted through the phone.
Even after twenty-five years, it still amazed Ky that a laugh like that could come out of such a tiny person.
“No,” Regan said once her laughter had softened to a light giggle. “It’s been a couple of years since the school tabloid last wrote about our imaginary affair. Apparently, we’re old news.”
A honk sounded, and Regan’s Toyota Yaris pulled into the parking lot.
Ky trotted over, swung open the passenger-side door, and dropped onto the seat. She put the phone away and reached for the seat belt. “So if it wasn’t that, what got the mom’s panties in a twist?”
Regan pulled back onto Division and gave Ky a quick sidelong glance. Her dark, curly hair was even more tousled than usual, springing in every direction. “The students asked me how I got into chemistry.”
“Oh no. You told them about helping Unonn make his homemade wine as a kid, didn’t you?” Regan’s Italian grandfather had been a man of few words, but he’d made the best red wine Ky had ever tasted.
“I was talking about how much fun it was to figure out the right ratio of sugar and yeast for the fermenting process. Apparently, that’s promoting the abuse of alcohol among minors.” Regan threw up one hand and gestured wildly.
Ky nervously eyed the steering wheel, half expecting her to let go with the other hand too. “So are you in hot water with your boss now?”
“No. Luckily, she backed me up. I just wish some parents would pay as much attention to their kids’ behavior as they obviously do mine.”
“Don’t I know it. Remember the dad of the freshman with the dairy allergy from last week?”
Regan winced. “Yeah, that was bad. Miranda was on lunchroom duty that day. She said she could hear him shout at you from across the room, accusing you of contaminating the non-dairy area during lunch prep.”
Ky leaned forward in her seat so she could rotate her tense shoulders. “Guess what? Today, I caught Junior with a bag of cheddar chips on his tray.”
Regan let out a loud tsk. “Are you sure you want the promotion they offered you? As an assistant cafeteria manager, you’ll probably have to deal with parents on a regular basis.”
If Ky was honest with herself, she wasn’t sure at all. But now wasn’t the time to discuss it. This was Regan’s special evening, so Ky shrugged and focused on pulling off her surprise.
When they approached Washington Street, where Regan would have to turn right to take them to Home Depot, sweat broke out along Ky’s back. Of course she’d prepared an excuse to lure Regan to Stark Street instead, but could she manage a casual delivery? That was the one disadvantage of having the same best friend since kindergarten: Regan knew all her lying tells.
Just as Ky opened her mouth to suggest a quick stop at the Bipartisan Café for Regan’s favorite cookies, Regan pointed up ahead toward the next intersection. “Do you mind if we stop at the sewing center for a second? Denny asked if I could pick her up some sewing machine oil since we would be in the neighborhood.”
Wow, that worked out great! If Ky remembered correctly, the sewing center wasn’t far from the restaurant. She reined in a grin. “Oh, sure, yeah. No problem.” She snapped her mouth shut before she could give herself away.
“Ooh, a parking spot!” Regan pumped her fist and made a quick left turn into SE Stark.
Um, wasn’t the sewing center to the right? But Ky wasn’t about to say anything because the parking spot Regan pulled into was directly in front of The Observatory. She couldn’t believe her luck.
When Regan rounded the car to join Ky on the sidewalk, they were in the perfect position to spring the surprise on her friend, only two steps from the restaurant’s front door. God, this was going almost too well.
“Surprise!” Ky yelled.
“Surprise!” Regan’s louder shout nearly drowned out Ky’s voice. “We’re not going to Home Depot!”
They stared at each other.
What the hell was going on? Ky squinted down at her best friend. “We’re not? I mean, I know we’re not, but…how do you know?” If one of their friends had given it away, she’d kill them.
“What? Of course I know. It was my idea.”
Ky shook her head, but that didn’t help her see the situation more clearly. “What are you talking about?”
A mischievous twinkle entered Regan’s eyes as she tilted her head and grinned. “I planned a surprise dinner to celebrate your promotion!” She swept her arm in a wide gesture toward the restaurant. “Ta-da!”
Ky gaped at her. No, that wasn’t possible, was it? What were the chances of them planning a surprise party for each other—at the same time and day, at the same restaurant?
Regan nudged her shoulder. “You didn’t suspect a thing, did you?”
“Hell, no! I thought I’d lured you here for a surprise dinner to celebrate your Teacher of the Year award.”
“Oh my God!” Regan burst out laughing, making the people at the sidewalk tables look over. “That’s why our friends gave me these weird looks when I told them to meet us here.”
They doubled over laughing and clutched each other’s arms until the glass door swung open and Eliza stepped outside in her trademark yellow sneakers. “Double surprise! I take it you realized you both had the same idea?”
Still breathless with laughter, Ky just nodded.
“Are you coming in, or are we throwing the confetti and putting on the party hats right here?” Eliza asked.
Ky glowered at her. “I said no confetti, no party hats, no balloons. Just food and conversation. You stuck to that promise, didn’t you?”
Eliza grinned and held the door open more widely. “Come in and find out.”
* * *
When the waitress slid the plate with the chicken curry salad wrap in front of her, Regan barely kept herself from salivating. “That looks great, thanks.”
The young woman leaned across the wood table toward Ky, who had claimed her customary seat next to Regan in the window booth. She placed the pulled-pork sandwich in front of Ky and gave her a smile. “Cool eyebrow slit.” She tapped her own brow next to the piercing she wore.
“Thanks.” Ky didn’t return the smile or tell her the gap in her eyebrow wasn’t a fashion statement. The scar bisecting her left eyebrow was a reminder of their childhood, when Ky had face-planted into the wooden top rung of the rope ladder leading up to the tree house Regan’s mom had built for them. Regan still felt guilty because she’d been daring Ky to climb faster.
Ky tugged the sideswept bangs of her otherwise short, brown hair over her eyebrow and brushed her shoulder against Regan’s as if sensing her moment of guilt. She gave the waitress a fleeting nod without making eye contact.
Regan bit back a smile. Her friend could be a tough nut to crack and showed her more goofy side mostly when it was just the two of them. She likely hadn’t even noticed the waitress’s subtle flirting.
A mouth-watering scent rose up when Ky cut the ciabatta bun, piled high with pulled pork and coleslaw, in half.
Yum. Good thing Regan didn’t have to decide between her two favorite dishes on the happy hour menu.
Without a word, she and Ky started their usual exchange. Regan deposited half her wrap on Ky’s plate while Ky slid the slightly bigger part of the sandwich over to her.
Heather stared at them with her fork hovering over her sesame chili chicken salad and gave them a slow shake of her head. “God, that’s so gay.” She glanced around the table, first at Denny and Eliza, who were sharing the last piece of oregano fry bread they’d ordered as a starter, then at Miranda. “Do straight people do that too?”
Regan’s colleague, the only straight person at the table, looked up from her veggie burger. “Do what?”
Heather waved her fork toward Regan and Ky. “Share food with their significant other.”
Ky had been just about to take a bite from her half of the sandwich. Now she snapped her mouth shut with an audible clack.
Regan exchanged a look with her. There we go again. For some reason, their friends loved making remarks like that.
“She’s not my significant other,” they said in unison.
“Of course straight people do that. At least some of them.” Miranda laughed. “Not me, though. If I tried to take half of my husband’s food, he’d stab me with his fork!”
Had Miranda and the rest of the gang even heard their protest? Admittedly, with The Observatory’s casual, lively atmosphere and every table filled, the restaurant was a little noisy.
Regan straightened her five-foot-two frame to catch her friends’ attention. “She’s not my significant other,” she repeated. Then she grinned over at Ky and caught her familiar eyes. Their color defied description, especially in the fading light that filtered in through the skylight and the low glow of the star-shaped lamp above the booth. “I mean, this one’s pretty significant to me”—she nudged Ky’s solid thigh with her own—“but we’re not an item.”
Miranda shrugged. “Oh, whatever you want to label it. I might be straight, but I’m not narrow.”
Regan glanced toward the long bar and the bottles lined up behind it. Christ, she needed a drink—something stronger than the house red she’d ordered. Miranda had joined Hamilton High School as a social studies teacher in September, and they’d become fast friends. Had she assumed she and Ky were together the entire time?
“No, that’s not what I…” Regan sent Ky an imploring look. “Feel free to jump in any time.”
“She’s right,” Ky said. “We’re just friends.”
Regan scrunched up her nose. Ugh. She hated that phrase with the fiery intensity of a thousand supernovas. To her, friendships were as important as romantic relationships.
“Not just,” Ky quickly added before Regan could say anything. “I know you hate that phrase. I meant, we’re friends. Best friends.”
“Friends who tease, bicker, and share food like an old, married couple,” Eliza threw in with a smile.
Ky glared at her. With her serious exterior and her bold features, which were striking rather than traditionally beautiful, she could intimidate even the unruliest teenager, but Eliza’s grin didn’t waver as she leaned into Denny’s shoulder.
“Wait!” Miranda waved a parmesan-sprinkled garlic fry back and forth between Regan and Ky. “You mean you two are really not…?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Miranda actually looked disappointed.
Eliza reached across the table and patted her arm. “Don’t feel bad. I assumed the same when Heather introduced us last summer. It took Denny and me until Christmas to figure out they’re not an item.”
Seriously? Regan gaped at her. Granted, they had all known each other for less than a year. Heather had started working in the cafeteria for a couple of hours in between her runs as a school bus driver last May. As different as they were, Ky and Heather had instantly hit it off, and when they had introduced their friends to each other, it quickly felt as if they had all known each other forever. But maybe the gang didn’t know them as well as Regan had assumed. “Why does everyone keep thinking we’re together? Why can’t two queer women be friends without everyone assuming they’re—”
Several people at surrounding tables looked over.
Damn. Had she been that loud? Regan bit her lip.
“Knocking boots,” Heather suggested when Regan didn’t continue.
“Making whoopie,” Eliza added.
Miranda grinned. “Sharing a carnal embrace.”
They all looked at Denny, the shyest person in their friend group, as if waiting for her to contribute something.
Regan used the moment to reach over and try to steal the pickle garnish from Ky’s plate.
Without even glancing at her, Ky batted her fingers away but then relented and handed it over.
Denny’s cheeks reddened, but she gamely added, “Doing the no-pants dance.”
Regan and Ky shared a why-are-we-friends-with-them-again look.
“We’re not doing any of that with each other.” Regan spoke slowly, as if explaining thermodynamics to the kids in the last row.
“Or anyone else,” Heather said. “It’s been ages since either of you went on a date. You even take Kylie as a plus-one to all of your family events and don’t even try to get an actual date.”
“So what? My family loves Ky. They would disinherit me if I didn’t bring her. That doesn’t mean we’re a couple. Why does everyone keep thinking we are?” Regan shoved most of the pickle into her mouth and chewed vigorously.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Eliza pointed at the pickle Regan was munching on. “Maybe because of the way you’re taking food off each other’s plates.”
“But—” Regan struggled to speak around the mouthful of pickle.
“—that’s what friends do,” Ky said for her.
“Or the way you finish each other’s sentences,” Heather added with a smirk.
Denny took a swig of her beer. “Or those book club meetings you had last year.”
“Why can’t two friends have a book club?” Ky asked.
“It’s not the fact that you had a book club. It’s that it was a two-person book club. It never occurred to you to invite anyone else to join you.”
Oops. Regan rubbed her earlobe. She looked at Ky, and they both shrugged.
When they’d been kids, her parents used to worry about them barely having any other close friends and playing only with each other, but Regan had never felt as if she was missing out. And now that she was an adult, she had made this wonderful group of friends—even if they wouldn’t let go of this ridiculous idea of her and Ky as a couple.
“It’s not because Ky and I wanted to be alone so we could whisper sweet nothings to each other or anything,” Regan told them. “It’s just that…” How could she explain it? Why did she even have to explain it?
Ky threw the French fry she’d been about to eat back onto her plate. “We—are—not—a—couple. Period.”
“Too bad,” Eliza said quietly. “You would be perfect for each other.”
“Come on!” Regan gestured at Eliza and Denny. “Just because you two lovebirds are the poster children for a deliriously happy relationship doesn’t mean everyone else has to pair up. Ky and I are great as friends, but we have no chemistry. None. Zero. Zip. Zilch.”
“How can you be so sure if you’ve never tried it?” Miranda asked. “Um, I mean, gone on a date. Not…”
“A carnal embrace,” Heather supplied.
Ky shook her head at them. “You’re asking Regan of all people if she’s sure about a chemistry thing? Of course she is. If anyone knows about chemistry, it’s her. She teaches chemistry after all and has just won an award for it.” Her fierce look softened into a proud smile. She lifted her wineglass. “Let’s drink to that and stop this fruitless discussion.”
As they clinked glasses, their gazes met over the rims.
“To you and your award,” Ky said. “I’m so proud of you.”
The look in Ky’s eyes filled Regan with warmth. “Not half as proud as I am of you, Ms. Assistant Cafeteria Manager.”
Ky lowered her head. “Um, about that… I—”
Heather reached across the table and nudged her. “That’s our Ky! Modest as always.”
Ky looked up. “Kylie,” she said firmly.
“But she calls you Ky all the time.” Heather pointed her fork at Regan.
“Yeah. I don’t know why, but that’s different. It feels wrong if anyone else calls me that.”
Heather shook her head. “And you wonder why everyone keeps thinking the two of you are a couple…or should be one?”
“New rule, everyone!” Regan used her teacher voice to get their attention. “The next person to bring it up pays tonight’s bill.”
As they all hastily found other things to discuss, Regan gave Ky a satisfied nod. It wasn’t that she minded being mistaken for Ky’s girlfriend. In her opinion, the woman who finally took Ky off the market for good should consider herself lucky. But it wouldn’t be her. She and Ky were like two substances that didn’t react with each other, at least not in a romantic way. You could mix them together, but there would be no chemical reaction whatsoever.
Now the question was just: How could she teach their stubborn friends this simple chemistry lesson?
We hope you are enjoying the book so far. To continue reading...
Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved
Please log in to recommend or discuss...
