After Mrs. Chandler insisted she speak to Brynn, Holly chucked her phone into the room and ordered Jamie to sanitize it when Brynn was done.
And that was that. Instead of taking Brynn to the final bash of their senior year, he’d take her for a blood test, maybe top off the night with a throat culture. Man did he know how to impress the ladies.
“This was supposed to be my night, Jamie,” she said after getting off the phone. “My night. And now all I want to do is chop off my own head to end the pain.”
He laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was cute when she was a mess.
“First of all,” he said. “I think the whole beheading thing might be a little more painful and a lot less practical than, I don’t know, going to urgent care? And second, this can still be your night. Just a different kind. We’ll see a doctor, get you a nice prescription for some codeine, a pint of Cherry Garcia, and a stack of Dieter tapes—as long as you still have the VCR hooked up.”
She sniffled and sat up. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get sick?”
He shook his head. “I’d chance it to take care of you. Plus”—he gave her a knowing smile—“you’re not supposed to be able to get mono twice. I’m probably immune to your plague.” To prove it, he kissed her on the forehead, happy to show her she didn’t have to be alone tonight. But even in her state, all the kiss did was prove to him how hard it was to just be her friend.
“Okay, maybe we’ll get you a quick shower, too.” The least he could do was lighten the mood, for both of them.
She sniffled again. “Can we listen to the Monkees in the car?”
He put his arm around her, pulling her head to his shoulder.
“Anything for you, Sleepy Jean.”
And he would do anything for her, even step aside for someone else. He’d made it all the way to junior year not falling for her. It had taken him dating Stephanie Delaney to realize no other girl made him feel the way Brynn did. Though who’s to say it wasn’t always there, this thing between them? Correction—this thing between them only Jamie seemed to feel. And who was he to stand in the way of her dream? He wouldn’t be that guy, letting his feelings interfere with her happiness. They had too much history for that kind of selfishness. Brynn made her choice, and it wasn’t Jamie. But tonight the universe seemed to be on his side, postponing the torture of watching her fall for someone else. Tonight was not for Spencer Matthews. It was for Jamie and Brynn. Even if they were only friends.
Chapter One
If there was one fashion accessory that made Brynn Chandler deliriously happy, it was boots—the taller the better—and the ones she had on now were devastating in the most gorgeous way. They made other boots cower in shame and other women green with envy. Rich black suede hugged her calves and folded over just above her knees. The three-inch heels that gave some stature to her five-foot-four-inch frame, making her legs look long and lean and—dare she say—hot, topped off the look. And, amazingly, they were crazy comfortable to walk around in. She nodded at her reflection, twisting her foot side to side so she could admire the view. She didn’t often think it of herself, but tonight Brynn knew it. She was lookin’ good.
Some of her former classmates complained the committee hadn’t planned a summer reunion, but not Brynn. Nothing topped the perfect dress like the perfect pair of boots, and these boots were made for a girl to wear to her high school reunion. She couldn’t believe it had been ten years already. Maybe she hadn’t done big things with her career or met the love of her life, but she had the boots, and tonight that would be enough.
“Holy shit, Brynn. If you fuck up my babies, we are through.”
Okay, so maybe the devastating boots weren’t hers per se, but they still looked exquisite with the dress, and Holly did say she could wear them. Brynn just tried not to think about the price tag of Holly’s babies.
“I should remind you,” Brynn started, “that you’re my sister. So the whole we’re through threat doesn’t really work on me. Plus, you need me for the other half of the rent, so…”
Holly huffed. She was good with that—the drama. A theater girl all throughout high school and college, Holly Chandler was always on. Sometimes Brynn couldn’t tell if her sister was adding a little flair or if her emotional reactions were genuine. This seemed a little bit of both.
“Please remember they retail for four hundred dollars, okay? To me that means they’re irreplaceable—unless you are sitting on a wad of cash I don’t know about, in which case I’d love your portion of the rent on time this month.”
Brynn sighed. She didn’t have to think about things when Holly was always there to remind her. Eight years out of high school, and Holly was already working her way up in Chicago’s fashion scene.