Shannon is shaking her head and giving me an annoying smirk. I raise my eyebrows, silently asking what the jab was for.

“Ah, you like him,” she whispers, motioning toward Parker as she nudges her shoulder into mine. She moves past me, toward the lobby desk.

“Parker, what are you doing Saturday?” Bryn asks, looking up at him. “I’m having a get-together at my place. Nothing big; just a small group of friends for drinks and a bonfire. You’re more than welcome to come if you’d like. You too, Aundrea.” Geez, thanks!

She gives me the briefest of glances when she invites me, then quickly turns her attention back to Parker. If Shannon thought I had it bad, this woman has it crazy bad. She’s not even trying to hide her interest.

“Thanks for the invite, but Aundrea and I actually already have plans.”

“You do?” she asks in surprise, looking at me.

“We do?” I ask in the same tone as Bryn.

Parker fills his coffee mug, then grabs mine out of my hands to fill it for me. “Yes, we do.” I add my own cream and sugar.

“Well, if you both want to come, you’re more than welcome to,” she says, then leaves in the same direction Shannon did, leaving the two of us alone.

“If you didn’t want to go to her party, you didn’t need to use me as your excuse.”

“I don’t want to go, and I didn’t use you. We have plans Saturday night.”

“What if I already had plans Saturday?” Sitting at home on the couch with re-runs of Dexter counts as plans, right?

“Cancel them.”

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Because I got two scrimmage tickets for the Wild on Saturday.”

The scrimmage games are free and open to the public, but I don’t burst his bubble by letting him know I’m aware of that fact.

“The scrimmage is at three; that doesn’t count as plans for Saturday night. Besides, isn’t it against some work policy to go out with the employees?”

“Are you saying you count this as a date?”

“No! Definitely not a date.”

“It could be.”

“No. Not a date.”

“Okay, then, no. It is not against any policy to go out with your co-workers as friends. Also, while we’re on this subject of friends: friends need to eat, so, yes, to answer your question; our plans would also entail Saturday night. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t make sure you ate dinner?”

While I stand there and ponder what he said, he starts to back away toward the door. “I’ll pick you up around eleven on Saturday. It’s almost a two hour drive to the stadium.” He gives me one of his famous winks before turning and leaving me by myself, staring blankly at the doorway.

“Cocky much?” I call after him, but all I get in a response is another chuckle.

The week continues in this fashion. I ride in with Jason, and Parker gives me his charming smiles and winks. We don’t talk much aside from him continually reminding me about Saturday. I finally tell him to stop reminding me or I won’t go. That shuts him up real fast.

I spend Friday night doing some homework and talking with Jean on the phone. She’s been so busy with school and her new job that the only contact we’ve had are brief texts. I didn’t want to tell her about Parker until I got her on the phone.

“Let me get this straight. The guy from the bar is Jason’s intern?”

“Was his intern. He’s the new veterinarian, and partner in the clinic.”

There is a loud banging that causes me to flinch and move the phone away from my ear.

“Sorry! I dropped the phone!” she yells as I bring the phone back to my ear.

“It’s okay.”

“This is good, Aundrea! Real good.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you said the sex was amazing. Your night together was spontaneous. And by the sounds of it, he’s trying to get back in your panties, and who knows … I think it’s about time you let loose a little. Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign?”

“Yeah, that for once you should enjoy what life throws your way.”

Deep down, I know I’m the girl who wants the fairy tale relationship. The type of relationship that is crazy and spontaneous. The one that gives you butterflies at the mention of his name. I want what Genna and Jason have.

What my parents have.

But, in reality—my reality—it’s just that: a fairy tale.

Chapter Eight

Saturday morning, I wash my wig, dry it, and three barrel curl it. A plus to having a wig is that I can style my hair while it’s on a stand, making sure I get every piece without having to reach behind my head. Normally, I like to change up my hairstyle and color, but since coming here and helping at the clinic, I can’t change it without someone asking questions. I’m not used to coming to a new place where not everyone knows my past, and I like it.

My insurance only allowed partial coverage for one wig, but my mom found a non-profit agency that helps. I have eight total, and six are of high quality, made with human hair that looks realistic. Eight may seem a little obsessive, but they were the only way I could express myself after I lost my hair.

After I finish curling my hair, I apply some makeup: blush, shimmering brown and nude eye shadow, mascara, and a little eyeliner.

I put on a cute, washed-out pair of jeans, a white tank top, and teal denim jacket. I add some small gold hoop earrings and slip on a pair of white ballet flats. Flats are my favorite to wear for two reasons: they are the most comfortable, and I don’t feel like even more of a giant than I already am when standing next to people.