Best Friends Don't Kiss(28)

Honestly, it’s enough to make any claustrophobe’s skin crawl.

Which, thankfully, I am not.

Already knowing that every seat is full, I choose a teeny-tiny spot toward the back of the car where I can use one of the silver metal poles to keep my balance if the ride gets bumpy.

It doesn’t take long before we’re off, the train picking up speed through the tunnels and heading toward my final destination in Chelsea.

The operator says something over the speakers, but like always, it sounds more like Marlon Brando talking with a mouthful of marshmallows while holding a microphone directly pressed against his lips than anything that could be deemed coherent.

Typical NYC subway.

The times you can actually hear what the operator is saying are so few and far between that most passengers just subconsciously tune out the muffled overhead voice. Unless the train comes to a complete stop in the middle of a dark tunnel. Then everyone listens. Or tries to listen. Or panics and starts asking everyone else if they can understand what is being said.

Now doesn’t appear to be one of those times.

The train continues to move, and I carefully pull my cell phone out of my favorite black leather crossbody purse without bumping into my fellow subway-sardines.

When I check the screen, I find three notifications from my mom.



Mom: Ava, I just ran into Callie at the bank, and she mentioned how she’s excited to meet your boyfriend…



Of course, she ran into Callie. You know, the very person who has been bombarding my email for the past two weeks about cakes and name tags and utter bullshit.



Mom: Did you forget to tell me something?



Mom: Ava Marie??? Hello????



On a sigh, I type out a response before she spams the shit out of me so much that I somehow manage to go over my unlimited text message plan.



Me: Oh yeah, Mom. I forgot to tell you that I just got back from a girls’ trip to Vegas where I met a Swedish man named Sven, fell in love, and got married. Mazel Tov!



Her response is immediate.



Mom: WHAT?



Me: He’s a really nice man, Mom. He had to go back to Sweden to run his Swedish Fish candy factory, but he’s already applied to get me citizenship so I can move to his country soon.



Mom: Ava Marie Lucie. You better be joking.



Me: Actually, it’s Ava Marie Skarsgard.



I think my favorite True Blood vampire, Alexander Skarsgard, is Swedish? Or is he Finnish?

Oh well. It doesn’t matter; she won’t know the difference.

Also, I’m pretty sure there’s supposed to be an accent mark above one of those a’s, but hell if I know what that is or how to get my iPhone to do it.

My cell buzzes with an incoming call from Mom, and I can’t hide my smile when I hit decline. I know I probably shouldn’t mess with Rose Lucie this much, but I can’t help it. Considering all the shenanigans she’s recently tossed my way, my lovely mother deserves a little teasing.



Mom: Ava, why aren’t you answering my call?! You better explain yourself! Fast!



Me: Fine. I can see my new marriage to Sven is upsetting to you, so I’ll request an annulment. Consider my marriage canceled. No more Sven. No more free Swedish Fish. No more future citizenship to Sweden.



Mom: AVA!!!!!



Me: What, Mom? I thought you wanted me to get married.



Mom: Not like this!



I can’t help but laugh.



Me: Relax, Mom. I’m not married.



Mom: But you DO have a new boyfriend that you haven’t told me about, right??? Can I just say that I’m so excited to meet him!



Sigh. This is exactly why you should never lie about anything. It always comes back to bite you in the ass. Not only have I hooked my reunion’s hopes on finding someone, now my mother has probably blown half her money at David’s Bridal “just in case.”



Mom: Is it too early for me to start asking what kind of food he likes since you guys will be here for two weeks in December? I want to make sure I have my fridge stocked with all his favorites so he feels at home! ?



See what I mean? She’s already trying to get a fucking grocery list together for a month from now.



Mom: Oh, and I want to make sure he has something under the tree from us to open on Christmas morning! You need to give me some gift ideas!



And the texts just keep on coming…



Mom: And his name! I need to know all about this new fella of yours! Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! I mean, I’m mad at you for not telling me, but I forgive you, sweetie.



Shit.

Don’t lie, kids. Or else you’ll have to deal with the backlash of your mom buying your imaginary boyfriend a wristwatch off Etsy and finding out on Christmas morning that you don’t have a boyfriend, and then your dad will probably start wearing the damn wristwatch, and every time your meddling mother sees it, she’ll remind you about that time you lied about having a boyfriend, and then it will just become this ongoing thing for the rest of your freaking life.

Although, right now, I’m going to have to not practice what I preach. Instead, I’ll hold on to the fragile hope that I will somehow find the man of my dreams in the next couple days and fix all my problems the unconventional way.