Page 12 of Sunset Catchers

Winnie: The meeting went great! Mrs. Harrington loved

my design and looked very happy.

Junie: OMG, that’s great. I knew it would, superstar.

Didn’t I tell you that?

Winnie: You did!

I try writing a few messages, only to delete them all. My screen is soon lighting up with an oncoming call. I answer, my eyes rolling with fondness.

“What’s up, Winnie bear?” Junie says, sounding worried. I dig my tongue into my cheek. My best friend always knows when something is bugging me. If only by the messages I’m not sending.

“Remember how I told you about the handyman Mrs. Harrington would have me working with?”

“Yes. Is he not up to the part?”

“No. I mean yes, I think. He seems competent.” His hands did grip my waist with firm assurance. Surely, he can hold his own with a hammer and a paint roller.

“Did he give you the creeps?”

“No.”

“Then, what is it?”

I take one big breath and recount the whole gas station incident followed by the wordy exchange I had with Levi. By the time I am done with my story, she’s cackling. I can imagine the tears gathering in the corners of her hazel eyes as clearly as if she was standing in front of me.

“Are you done?” She is not done. “It’s not funny, Junie.” She takes one centering breath.

“Sorry babe, but yes, it is. That’s the most ridiculous meet-cute ever.”

“That’s not…this is so not the start of a romance story. It is a horror story. This will haunt me, Junie. One day, years from now, I’ll casually be pushing my cart in a store, and then I’ll remember this whole interaction and cringe myself right to hell. It’s embarrassing.”

She hums. “How hot is he?”

“That’s not relevant.” She clears her throat loudly, calling up our no bullshit rule.

“Stupid hot,” I admit regretfully.

She clicks her tongue. “Ahhh, there’s your problem.”

“No!” I vehemently disagree. “It doesn’t have to do with anything. I would feel the same way if he were butt-ugly.”

Except, he really, really isn’t.

Which, admittedly, does add to my embarrassment.

It’s just that—he is my triple threat: blue eyes, wavy hair and kind of looks like an asshole. These guys just did wonders to my pheromones.

“Sure babe, whatever floats your boat.”

A laugh escapes my lips. Junie always knew how to diffuse my fumbling over the silliest stuff. As a well seasoned, neurotic overthinker, it was in my nature to stress over dull matters and turn them into more than they ever were. A thing I could only see and admit after the fact, never during or even before. No, that would be too convenient. How would the universe be entertained by me, then?

“Seriously, why are you all riled up about this? Lay it on me.”

The magic words.

When she could feel my ongoing internal spiraling, that’s what she’d say to me: Lay it on me. I’d share all of the ramblings in my mind so she could help me downsize my worries until they were just a speckle of dust I could sweep away as if they never existed at all. I take a few seconds to think about what to say, knowing she won’t rush me.