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Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2) Prologue- Jeremy 2%
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Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2)

Testing Recipes for Disaster (Emberwood #2)

By Nicole Campbell
© lokepub

Prologue- Jeremy

S pring

My eyes were sweating. The spring air was warmer than it should have been when Lauren and I walked out of Books and Broomsticks, and this had to be the reason for the watery eyes.

“Do you need, like, a hanky or something, Jer?” Lauren asked, keeping up with me easily on the way to my car, though I had no idea how with the heels she was wearing.

“I have allergies , Garrett. It’s a well-documented medical condition that—”

“That makes you cry when you see your best friend down on one knee, proposing to the woman of his dreams? You’re allergic to commitment? Or love? Or—”

“All of the above, maybe. But fine, it was nice . They were both really happy and...”

Jesus , I thought, my voice already tightening again, thinking about Jesse’s stupid proposal.

“It was nice, Laur. I’m sorry I don’t have a heart of stone like some people,” I said pointedly as we reached my GTI.

Her lips quirked up, but it didn’t light up her face like her smile usually did. Guilt formed in my chest. I wasn’t sure what I was guilty of—giving each other shit was what our entire friendship was based on. That, and the fact that her brother was my best friend.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said as she slid into the passenger seat. “I wasn’t excited to get a ride home from the happy couple. Or my mother and her tears, though you’re now making me think I didn’t escape much of anything.”

Her smile was a little bigger with that insult, and I huffed dramatically and put the car in reverse. I opened my music app the moment silence settled around us and started a playlist that I thought she’d like.

Quiet with Lauren and me was dangerous for too many reasons. I’d crossed the line from friendly to flirting more times than I cared to admit, and even if Jesse seemed to have calmed down somewhat about it, his disapproval was fine with me. I wasn’t operating under the delusion that I was let-him-date-your-sister material.

“You can change the song if you want,” I said, desperate for something benign to fill up the ride to her townhouse.

“It was nice.”

“Hmm?”

“The proposal. It was kind of perfect. I did sound... negative, before. I’m not. My best friend is going to be my actual, legal sister. And they’re so happy...”

“I know, Laur. I was just giving you a hard time. Sorry if it bothered you.”

Things were getting far too serious, and we still had at least four minutes until I dropped her off. My hand gripped the gearshift to keep from reaching for hers, but I let my eyes drift to her pretty green ones. Her red hair was pulled away from her face and curled down her back. She looked gorgeous, and it killed me not to tell her that.

“No, I know. I...whatever. I wanted to say it out loud, I guess.”

She bit her lip like she wanted to say more, but instead, she rolled down her window and let her fingers glide over the night air. I sighed, wishing I had the right words or was the right guy to get her out of her head, but I didn’t, and I wasn’t.

I pulled into her complex and got out. I realized too late that I would never do that for a guy friend I was dropping off at home, and this looked like a date, but there was no turning back now.

“You’re upholding the ideals of chivalry, Jer? It’s like I don’t even know you.”

“I don’t want you to fall over in those heels and be held responsible for your concussion. It’s a liability issue.”

She rolled her eyes, linked her arm through mine, and leaned against me. Even in those shoes, she barely reached above my shoulder. Her hair tickled the back of my arm enough that goosebumps rose in response.

“Your castle, milady,” I said with a bow and a horrible British accent.

“Thank goodness you don’t have an accent. That would be unfair in the grand scheme of things.”

“Because I’m otherwise nearly god-like in my perfection?”

“I was going to say you were cute, but you took it off the deep end, there.”

“I’ll take ‘cute’ coming from you anytime. You look gorgeous tonight, Laur.”

Fuck. This is not the plan.

I’d done so well keeping my mouth shut all night.

She fished her keys from her tiny bag and stepped closer to her door before stopping. Her eyes searched mine for an uncomfortably long moment.

“Do you wanna come in?”

She might as well have asked me to diffuse a bomb with how quickly my heart rate jumped. Every part of my body was screaming at me to already be inside with her back pressed against the door, finding out what she felt like under my fingers. But there would be no coming back from that, and we both knew it. It would put a definitive end to this game we played.

“Please don’t ask me that,” I got out, though it was barely above a whisper.

Hurt flashed across her face, and I hated it, but the hurt would be so much worse if I crossed the threshold—both literal and figurative.

“Fine, Jer. Have a great fucking night.”

And with that, she was inside; the door slammed and locked in an instant.

I stood there stupidly for several moments, paralyzed with indecision about anything I could possibly do to make the last ten minutes disappear.

Instead, I shoved my hands in my pockets and made it my mission to kick any stray pebbles on the walkway back into the nearby landscaping. It was safe to say that I would not be having a great fucking night.

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