Spring Fling (Dating Season Book 1) by Laurelin Paige (novel24 .TXT) 📗

Not exactly the nap date I wanted, but I’ll take it.

I’m a fraud. A phony who skipped SuperFit to eat ice cream with Charlotte and Austin. It feels lovely to not suffer through leg lifts and grumble in my head the entire time, though. What a relief to take a day off from fitness. What a relief to just spend time with my people. Is it normal to have these thoughts only a month in? I’m sure it’s not.

“You know, it just feels like I’m consumed by squatting and running nowhere on a treadmill,” I say as we wait our turn at Every Day Is Sundae. “I don’t get it. Am I supposed to get it? Is there something wrong with me?”

This is a question I truly need answered. It’s been a week since the tiny house incident, and during that week, there’s been no more sex.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Austin says.

“I think the amount of people here confirms ice cream trumps exercise,” Charlotte adds. “There’s a delicate balance between healthy and fanatical.”

The guilt weighing on my shoulders lightens. It’s like a twisted form of aromatherapy, letting my troubles out, surrounded by the sweet scent of freshly baked waffle cones.

The line shuffles forward and so do we until it’s reward time.

“What can I get for you?” the lanky cashier asks me.

Finn’s lecture about making good choices blares in my mind.

“I’ll just need a moment to decide.”

While Austin and Charlotte order, the containers of frozen flavors behind the glass case tempt me to get a scoop of each. It’s been weeks since I’ve indulged in decadent treats.

On the plus side, when I arrived, I could have sworn I saw Austin’s eyes linger on my newly toned body. And Charlotte straight up smacked my ass and declared it hard enough to bounce a quarter, which caused Austin to involuntarily look a second time and make noncommittal noises.

On the negative side, if I still care that Austin’s looking, and tallying the number of glances, then he definitely isn’t out of my system.

Even though I desperately want the real thing, I say, “I’ll have a scoop of fat-free vanilla.”

“No, she won’t,” Austin says. He turns to me and lowers his voice, “You like chocolate peanut butter. Full fat. Full flavor. Fat-free is not you.”

He’s right. I faked an orgasm. Must I fake ice cream too?

“Give me two scoops of chocolate peanut butter, please.”

“That’s my girl,” Austin says. “Today we’re rebelling.”

Yes. I’m not his girl, but I am a rebel. With our cups in hand, we head to the sprawling topping bar.

“Pain is weakness leaving the body!” Finn likes to yell at me in the gym. Clearly I haven’t suffered enough, because I am weak enough to load a pound’s worth of chocolate chips, peanut butter cups, and Oreos onto my double-scoop. No one judges me for my abundance of toppings, and it’s nice.

With my weighted cup, I follow Austin and Charlotte to a vacant table.

“It feels so good to just relax today,” Charlotte groans as she stretches across a whole side of the booth, forcing me to slide my supple rear just inches from Austin’s. “My future in-laws are a lot. I thought wedding planning was exhausting on its own. And then slightly more so with my mother involved. But they are so picky you’d think it was their wedding. Or at least their money.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “What are they giving you problems about?”

“Ugh, the venue for one.” She points her spoon at me. “But this idea is the worst… They want a ring warming ceremony.”

I laugh. “What’s that?”

“His parents want our bands passed among the guests to lay their hands on. Margaret said it sends love and good energy to them.” She shakes her head. “No. Just no. What if someone secretly sends bad vibes?”

“I think you’re safe, even if they do,” Austin says with a half-smile.

“Oh”—she turns to face us—“and this… Instead of bouquets, his mom said she could make wreaths. Wreaths.”

“That’s interesting,” I say.

“No, it’s not interesting. All I can picture is tossing my wreath instead of a bunch of flowers like I’m lasso-ing single bridesmaids. It’s weird. I want the dream wedding with bushels of flowers. I want the whole fantasy. Ya know?”

Yeah, I do. Since Charlotte started planning her wedding, fantasies of my own have materialized. Her pending nuptials have unleashed a potential bridezilla within me. It’s like women’s menstrual cycles syncing. I’ve become matrimony synced.

“Isn’t the dream ending up with the person you love?” Austin says, giving Charlotte a pointed look.

“No.” She laughs. “Well, hypothetically, what would you guys want?”

Austin shifts on the red pleather and his forearm brushes mine. The innocent act causes the fine hairs on my arm to salute. Why must my body betray me in such cliché ways? I’m trying here.

“I don’t know that I’ll ever get married,” he says.

“Really?” I can’t help but ask.

His dark eyes stay on his strawberry ice cream. “It’s not something I’m planning.”

“What about you, Chloe?” Charlotte asks.

It’s my turn to shift in my seat. “I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it,” I fib.

“Spill,” Austin directs with a raised brow.

I dig tunnels in my ice cream with my spoon. “I guess for myself, I envision an intimate ceremony. The napkins will be printed with fun history facts of us. There’ll be an artist live painting the ceremony so we can hang it in our home.

“Aw,” Charlotte coos.

“Granny Mae will do the dessert bar, and the menu will be a replica of food from our first date.” I look up. “Oh God, Finn and I had wings. I can’t have messy wings in a white satin gown. I’ll be starving at my own wedding.”

Charlotte’s spoon halts mid-air on the way to her mouth. “You’d marry Finn?”

“Well, no. I mean…” Warmth floods my face. “We’re just dating.” Awkward silence. “So, uh, how’s the move going?”

“I’m almost all the way out,” Charlotte says.

“What about you, Austin?” What I really need to know is, have you