Ten Trends to Seduce Your Bestfriend
: Chapter 29

“Are you excited?” Amelia patted my leg, her grin enormous.

The pilot had just announced we were beginning our final descent, and I didn’t know who was looking forward to seeing Byron more, me or Amelia. Or maybe she was excited to see me and Byron together in the same place after nearly a month of phone calls and text messages.

She’s not the only one.

I pressed a hand to my stomach as I eyed New York City from my window seat. “I am excited,” I offered faintly. I was nervous. In addition to the Byron-related butterflies I’d been combating—i.e., worrying I’d allowed my expectations of him and of this trip to get out of control—this had been my first time traveling via airplane. I hadn’t enjoyed the takeoff, and the idea of going through the reverse with the landing made my palms damp with cold sweat.

“The landing is easier than the takeoff,” Elijah said, obviously reading my mind. He leaned over Amelia to offer me a piece of gum. “For fresh breath and depressurized ears.”

“Thanks.” I accepted the gum, thankful to have something to do other than pray and swallow.

At the last minute, Amelia and Elijah had decided to fly with me to New York and tag along for the weekend. Amelia needed to get back to Seattle by Sunday night as her company’s new grant monies had been distributed and activities were ramping up for a mid-August kickoff.

Meanwhile, no one from her company had called me about an interview. But that was perfectly fine, and I saw no reason to mention it to Amelia. It would be unfair of me to expect her to intervene on my behalf.

Determined to handle things myself, I’d spent the last week researching and filling out job applications. I wasn’t counting on or hoping for the community manager job anymore and, as such, my mood had improved significantly.

However, I did hear from Bhavna. She’d returned my email last Saturday, the day after my conversation with Christy. To my complete shock and bewilderment, the school secretary had confirmed what Christy had told me. The science fair was funded and would be funded continuously for the next ten years. The school had received what Bhavna referred to as a “bulk item donation of one thousand samples” for the general school auction, earmarked specifically for the science fair, the new computer lab, and for new library books. She expected the money raised to fund all these initiatives in full.

I’d responded, requesting more details—what precisely was this bulk item donation, what kind of “samples,” who donated it, and how did I express my gratitude—but Bhavna hadn’t emailed me back by the time we’d boarded the flight to New York this morning.

“Okay! Byron said he’s sending a car to pick us up. Elijah and I will drop you off at your hotel first and then head over to our rental in the Village. We’ll meet you guys for dinner.” Amelia turned to Elijah. “I can’t believe Byron wants to go out to dinner. I’ve known him almost my whole life and we’ve never gone out to dinner. Not once. He hates crowds.”

“Winnie knows the plan, Amelia.” Elijah offered his lady love a stick of gum. “You’ve been talking about it nonstop. She’s not going to forget about dinner.”

“I know, I know. I’m just so excited about that apartment we got. Don’t you think it’s amazing that it wasn’t booked for this weekend? It’s like we were meant to fly out here with Winnie.” She made a happy sound and turned back to me. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay tomorrow? You feel good about everything?”

“Yep. Feel great.”

Starting tomorrow and through Wednesday, I’d be accompanying Byron to his gauntlet of interviews, acting as his buffer. His manager together with his agent had sent me an agenda earlier this week with the finalized schedule. They would both be there. I’d made a point of researching each of the interviewers, scanning through their social media accounts for mentions of hobbies, tastes, previous jobs, where they went to college, etc. so I could engage with them and take the pressure off Byron.

With all my freedom this past week—since I no longer needed to go door to door asking for auction donations—I’d recorded several STEM and makeup tutorial videos for my social media channels and completed two continuing education courses. This was in addition to creating dossiers on the interviewers and applying for jobs. I’d also gone on a trail hike with Danielle and Olivia—the lovely ladies Amelia and I met at Lucy and Jeff’s doomed dinner party—following it up with tubing down the Pilchuck River while wearing one of the more conservative bikinis I’d sent to Byron.

Yes, Byron and I were still sending photos, asking each other’s opinions on everything from towels to bathing suits to gray sweatpants to more of those magical TikTok leggings. I still hadn’t posted the leggings or the kiss your crush videos, even though Byron had told me both were fine to post whenever I wanted.

Obviously, if I did post the kiss your crush video, I’d edit the heck out of it, showing only the quick, chaste kiss instead of the makeout session that followed. But I hesitated, and the reason I hesitated struck me as painfully ironic. Since Byron and I were becoming more than friends, it now felt newly disingenuous to post videos of us pretending to be just friends.

Don’t ask me why my brain is this way. I HAVE NO ANSWERS!

Worse, people were starting to comment on my videos and posts more and more, asking if or when Byron and I would do another challenge video. They continued to be, by far, my most viewed content, and I didn’t know how to proceed.

So I’d deferred any decision-making until I saw Byron, counting on him to help me reason through the problem.

Closing my eyes as we plummeted toward the ground, I focused on chewing my gum, wondering if I could switch my return seat to an aisle instead of a window. Or, my brain offered, next time just close the shade.

Amelia gripped my hand and whispered words of encouragement while Elijah made small talk with a guy across the aisle. The plane touched down, my stomach rising when it bounced twice and as we decelerated.

And then it was over.

“See?” Amelia wiggled her hand, forcing me to loosen my grip. “Not so bad.”

I huffed a laugh and nodded. Indeed.

Hopefully, the rest of the trip would be smooth sailing in comparison.

As expected, Byron’s driver met us at baggage claim. Not as expected, there were two drivers. One held a sign with my last name and the other held a sign with Amelia’s.

I’d checked a large suitcase to accommodate the dress and accoutrements needed for the Jupiter Awards. Since I needed the big bag anyway, I also added two boxes of See’s dark chocolate for Byron, food therapy to help him get through the interviews.

Amelia and Elijah, however, had brought only backpacks and small carry-ons. They offered to hang out with me while I waited at baggage claim, but I waved them off, telling them to go check in to the temporary rental they were so excited about.

We said our goodbyes for now and they followed their driver out of the airport. About an hour later—during which my driver, Alvin, and I chatted about his life and where he was from and how he liked New York and how he met his wife—I also followed my driver out of the airport and to a waiting SUV parked in a section marked Private Transportation.

My sightseeing tour and friendly conversation with Alvin was interrupted about twenty minutes after walking out of the airport when my phone rang, Amelia’s smiling face flashing on my screen.

“Hello?” I answered on speakerphone.

She heaved a sigh before she spoke. “Okay. I have some bad news.”

“Oh no. What’s wrong?” I sat forward in my seat.

“So, the apartment was a scam. It doesn’t exist, and now I feel like a moron.”

I could tell she was doing her best to remain calm, but I knew how excited she’d been about the apartment.

“I am so sorry.”

“I don’t know what we’re going to do. I’ve been calling hotels for twenty minutes while Elijah has been looking online. Everything is booked. Even the airport hotels are booked.” Her voice cracked, and I heard Elijah say something comforting in the background.

“Did your driver already leave?”

“Yes. He was awesome, but he’s long gone. I didn’t want him to have to wait around for our contact from the rental to meet us. I feel so stupid.”

I met Alvin’s gaze in the mirror, and he mouthed, “We’ll go get them.” I nodded.

“This is what we’re going to do. Send me your current location. Alvin and I will come by and pick you up. We’ll all go to the hotel where Byron and I are staying.”

“I tried calling there already. It’s waaay out of our price range, but even if we could afford it, it’s totally full. That’s where everyone seems to be staying for the awards.”

“Text Byron, let him know what’s happening. He might be able to wrangle a room even if they’re telling you everything is booked. Worst case, you can stay with me. I have an entire hotel room all to myself.”

“Win—”

“Don’t worry about it! Besides, what am I going to do with a giant hotel room?” I asked cheerfully, sharing another look with Alvin.

He smirked but said nothing.

Apparently, New York hotel rooms are the size of closets.

“And I thought our apartment was small.” I walked seven feet forward into the room and then stopped. That was as far as I could go. It had a small bathroom with a tiny shower, a full-sized bed, a sliver of a nightstand, and a TV hanging on the wall.

That said, it was tastefully decorated and the south-facing view from the window was gorgeous.

I turned and found Amelia and Elijah standing slack-jawed with dismay by the door. I couldn’t help but laugh. There was no way we’d all be able to sleep in here. We barely fit standing.

Elijah and I traded a wide-eyed look and he also started to laugh, shuffling forward and pushing my big bag into the bathroom at his left. The hotel room door couldn’t close, not yet, and it quickly became clear that Amelia would have to get on the bed along with their bags in order for it to shut.

At that moment, Byron appeared in the open doorway behind them and my spine stiffened, the small room forgotten as we locked eyes over Amelia’s head.

I couldn’t believe it. He was here. He’s right there! My heart hammered. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I knew Amelia had texted him, but the sight of him still took my breath away. He wore all black, as usual, and looked exactly the same. Well, almost the same. His hair seemed shorter than in his last photo.

At the thought of his last photo, my cheeks and chest ignited. He’d been shirtless and wearing gray boxer briefs and his . . . well, let’s just say they were extremely tight and left very little to the imagination.

I wanted to cross the short distance to hug him, but Amelia, Elijah, and their bags formed a bottleneck in the doorway.

“Well. . .” Elijah—apparently not yet seeing or sensing Byron in the hall—guided a shell-shocked Amelia to the bed, encouraging her to sit and then loaded their bags on her lap. “I’ve always said that I wanted to get to know you better, Winnie. Now’s our chance.”

I watched as Byron frowned and removed his gaze from mine. He blinked at the back of Elijah’s head and then his gaze shifted to the room—what there was of it—his eyes growing just as wide as Amelia’s.

“What the hell is this?” Byron’s voice had Elijah turning and Amelia peeking around the corner from where she sat.

“Byron!” Amelia tried to stand but couldn’t. Instead, she waved. “This is all my fault.”

Expression grim, Byron’s attention hooked back into mine. “I had no idea your room was this small.” He didn’t sound sorry, he sounded pissed. “I told my manager to book you a suite. She will be hearing from me.”

“Don’t worry about it. I don’t need a suite.” I’m sure I sounded a little dazed. I didn’t care where I slept, I was just so happy to see him.

“You can’t stay here,” he said, his voice gruff. “This isn’t acceptable.”

Elijah lifted his hand for Byron to shake. “Sorry about the trouble.”

Byron glanced at Elijah’s hand, his frown intensifying, and shook it. “Don’t worry about it. But—uh—why don’t you and Amelia leave your things here and head out. Winnie will come with me. We’ll get this sorted and meet you for dinner.”

Elijah, visibly relieved, thanked Byron and stepped out into the hall. Amelia pushed the bags from her lap and gave him a hug before joining Elijah. They both offered me silent waves over Byron’s shoulder and then departed, leaving us alone in a room the size of my supply closet at school.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot as Byron stepped forward and allowed the door to close, his handsome features made severe with plain unhappiness.

“It’s so good to see you.” I found I needed to clear my throat before continuing. “In person, I mean.”

Still hovering by the door, he slid his hands into his pockets. “I am so sorry about the room. I meant what I said, this isn’t acceptable.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not. Don’t say it is. And you’re not going to—” Byron abruptly snapped his mouth shut, glanced at the ceiling, and inhaled deeply before continuing in a quieter, calmer voice. “If I can’t get another room for you or for them, I would prefer if you didn’t stay here with Amelia and Elijah.”

“Okay . . .?” I glanced at the full-sized bed. “Then what should I do?”

He stared at me for a long moment, like I was a book he was trying to read. Then, eventually, Byron took a small step forward. “Would you stay with me?”

“With you?” I asked, my voice tight. My heart jumped around my chest and swooped down to give my stomach a high five.

The side of his mouth curved ever so slightly. “I have a suite with a couch and a full-sized bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have the bed.”

“Oh.” I nodded while my heart and stomach paused their celebration, not sure what to think. “But I should take the couch. I’m shorter.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He drifted another step closer, dipping his head as he held my eyes. “Is that a yes?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching.

“Yes.” I smiled. “Yes, that’s a yes.”

“Good.” He returned my small smile, sounding pleased, then tilted his head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get this debacle sorted.”

Smiling shyly, because—quite frankly—I felt a little shy, I followed Byron out of the room and into the hall. Hands still in his pockets, he stalled until I was beside him, then we walked toward the elevator side by side.

“How was your flight?”

“Good. Fine.” I didn’t feel like talking about turbulence right now. I wanted to know about him, so I changed the subject. “How has your time been here?”

Byron stared forward, his features growing cagey. “Uh, elucidating.”

“Elucidating? Well, that sounds mysterious.”

He sorta smirked but didn’t look at me or say anything else as we neared the elevator. I was at a loss. We’d spent four weeks engaging in banter disguised as seeking each other’s opinion via text without actually saying anything overtly suggestive, all the while trading photos of us wearing almost nothing. When we’d talked on the phone, our conversations had been both excessively friendly and platonic, neither of us mentioning the pictures.

I’d been patient for a month, and I was prepared to be patient indefinitely if that’s what he needed. I told myself I didn’t want to pressure him.

However, now that he was here and I was faced with the reality of Byron, some errant, irritating part of me did want to pressure him, did want to ask where we stood and what he was thinking and if he was ready to move beyond friendship, but I didn’t know how to broach the topic.

I didn’t understand this part of myself. This was not me. I didn’t push, I left breadcrumbs.

Those breadcrumbs are stale. PUSH HIM!

Scrunching my face against the restless ache of my heart, I shoved down this bubbling urge to make demands, to want more than he might be willing to offer freely, and I decided to say nothing.

Yes, the answer was to not broach the topic at all. The answer was to simply relax and spend time being friendly with my friend, not expect too much, and let things come as they would.

Or, if he was never ready, so be it. I would be fine. I’d guarded my heart and had reinforced the walls since our talk in his room last month. The only way I would consider handing over the key to that lock was after months and months of us being more than friends. If we never made it that far, I would survive and thrive no matter what he ultimately decided.

Nodding and surrendering to the wisdom of this answer even if it made my heart feel like a suffocating, wild, caged animal, I reached forward to call the elevator.

“Where are we going? Down or up?”

“Down,” he answered. “We’ll go to the concierge first.”

“Okay.” I pressed the down button and stepped back, glancing at Byron and replaceing his watchful eyes on me.

“It’s so good to see you, Fred.” His stare drifted from mine to move over my face—hair, forehead, nose, cheeks, lips. “In person.”

Even though I’d just decided to relax and approach our interactions as a friend would, my stupid heart staged a sneaky coup d’état. I gave his shoulder an impulsive, light shove. “What? You didn’t like my pictures?”

Byron caught my hand and held it tightly. “I did. Very much. More than I’ll ever allow you to know.” His stare still fastened to my lips, he added, “But there’s only so much one can do with pictures.”