Under the Rose by Diana Peterfreund Page A

wait until Jenny calmed down somewhat and try her again. Or maybe I’d even give Josh a heads-up on the issue. He may not be a Diggirl, but he was close enough, and I was sure he’d love any excuse to give Micah a little smackdown. But when I got back home, it was to find Lydia alone on the couch, chewing the end of her highlighter and smiling dreamily into her Locke.
    “Where’s Josh?” I asked.
    “Eleven-thirty lecture,” she murmured, and proceeded to highlight a line I’m sure she’d had memorized since freshman year. She glanced up at me. “Anything wrong?”
    Nothing that couldn’t wait until the next time I saw Jenny. I schooled my features into a more casual expression. “No. Why?”
    “I thought Brandon was here.”
    “Oh, that. He was. It was fine.”
    Lydia nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. I hope you guys can move on and be friends.”
    “Sadly, I think that’s up to him. I’m the one who hurt him, so I’m pretty much consigned to taking whatever friendship he’s willing to let me have.”
    Lydia pursed her lips. “Brandon’s a good guy. I’m sure he wants to be your friend.”
    “I don’t know if I can be his friend—not really. I doubt we were ever just friends. There was always the tension, and then the outright flirting, then all the naked stuff. And then we were kind of together. I don’t know how to be friends with him without the sexual element. Maybe I just don’t do the boy friend thing.”
    “Especially not at your current pace with Monsieur Prescott, mon ami. ”
    “You ain’t just whistlin’ ‘La Vie en Rose.’” I plopped down on the couch next to her. “But that’s a whole other headache. I think I’m having a day where I wish all men would simply spontaneously combust and leave our planet alone.” Starting with Micah.
    “Mmmm,” Lydia sighed. “I’m not.” She stretched out her feet and wiggled her toes. “Josh is…sublime.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    “No, really, Amy, if only you knew.” Ha. If only she knew. “I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, and yes, rationally I know it’s my brain exulting over the whole pair-bonding thing and going nuts, but I don’t think I’ve ever known a guy like him before. We can lie around for hours and talk about nonsense or issues and it feels so comfortable. I don’t worry if he’ll think I’m an idiot if the subject matter changes from what we should do in the Middle East to whether the new Star Wars movies are any good. Which, you know, they’re not.”
    “Right.”
    “But it’s amazing. I feel as if I can tell him things I’ve never told anyone.” Her eyes widened. “Except you, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    She broke into a smile. “And it’s so weird, but I feel as if he can tell me things he’s never told anyone, too.”
    Except me. Of course.
    “That’s great, Lydia,” I said, and meant it. Or hoped I did. “I’m really really happy for you. I hope this works out.”
    “Thanks, hon. I know the last thing you probably want to hear about right now are my romantic adventures.”
    “No, actually, it’s nice to think there is a purpose to all of this.” And nicer to hope that maybe this time Josh would hold himself in check.
    Lydia dropped her head on my shoulder. “I think there is. Right now anyway. Ask me again when I’m single.” I chuckled, dislodging her from her perch. “Okay, back to 17th-century political theory.”
    The phone rang and Lydia grabbed the receiver. “Lydia and Amy’s Den of Sin.”
    Great. When she said stuff like that it was always my mom. We were sitting so close, I could hear the person speak on the other end.
    “Lydia, it’s Josh.”
    “Oh, hey there, cutie.”
    “Are you alone?”
    “Um, no, Amy’s right here.” There was a click. “Josh?” She looked at me. “That was weird.”
    And then my cell phone rang. I answered it, careful to hold it up to the ear facing away from Lydia. “Hello?”
    “Firefly Room. Now.” And then the line went