Bookishly Ever After (Ever After #1)(10)
“Because I’m doing what’s best for you.” She smoothed down a layer of chiffon in the back of my dress and started pushing me out the door. “Now, smile.”
5
I pulled the heavy comforter over my head. Snaking my hand out from my cocoon, I felt around on the nightstand for my glasses. A hard corner dug into my back and, as soon as I slipped on the glasses, I reached under myself to free Glittering. My fingers ran down the still-straight spine and unbent cover and I breathed a sigh of relief. I had to stop falling asleep on books. Glasses-to-nightstand became automatic after I had broken my last pair by sleeping in them. Waking up to a bent frame pressing against my nose was enough to train me out of that habit. But somehow, I always ended up sprawled over the latest hardcover.
I didn’t bother looking for my book light. If I started reading now, I’d never get out of bed. Late night or not, I had to get ready for work teaching the Brunch n’ Beginners learn-to-knit class at Oh, Knit! The money was good and I got to be surrounded by tons of yarn and books while sipping bottomless lattes.
I rolled out of bed, grabbing the first pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that crossed my path. Catching a glimpse of myself in my vanity mirror, I cringed. I had fallen asleep with wet hair and now half of it was curly, the other half stick straight and practically standing on end. And still a bright shade of red, despite all the scrubbing I gave it last night after the dance.
I stayed in the bathroom just long enough to decide that I really didn’t need to put in contacts today and gave the tub a wide berth on my way out. I didn’t want to look. The last I checked, the tub was still dyed an insane shade of pinky orange from my hair dye. My blue towel was still draped over the side, too, now stained with brown blotches.
After trying a few times to tame the mess on my head, I just threw my hair into a claw clip, slipped my ‘The book was better’ t-shirt over my top, grabbed my knitting bag, and headed out. It didn’t matter. Only knitters were going to see me, anyway.
Oh, Knit! was only fifteen minutes from my neighborhood, and usually, I loved the walk this time of year through the piles of leaves in the early morning autumn chill. Today, though, I dragged myself there, barely noticing anything around me until a familiar tug on my messy bun made me jump.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Dev’s voice came over my shoulder.
I stopped midstep and tried not to seem too thrown off as Dev and Alec came up alongside me. “It’s okay. Now I won’t need coffee since you just gave me a heart attack.”
Alec hadn’t gone to the dance, so I could understand how he managed to look semihuman that early on a Sunday, but Dev? Even with slicked back wet hair and grungy clothes, he was too awake and too pulled together for someone who had probably been up later than me. Before I could stop myself, I checked my reflection in a passing shop window. Yup. Still looked like a human version of yarn barf. Embarrassment tickled up my neck and I was thankful for the chill that had already colored my cheeks and was keeping my face from getting too hot.
“Nice shirt.”
I glared at Alec for calling attention to how utterly ridiculous I looked. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Going to work at the bluehair store again?”
Pull yourself together. Maeve would just straighten herself up and keep walking as if she were wearing a designer gown instead of a goofy t-shirt.
As I pulled my back ramrod straight and tilted up my chin, I answered in my best Maeve-y tone, “You realize that a ton of young A-list celebrities knit, right?”
“And grandmoms.” Alec kicked a rock off the sidewalk and it clattered into the mostly deserted street. “Besides, it’s not like you care about what celebrities do.”
“I care about them if they knit.” I pulled my circular needles out of my bag and pointed them fencer-like at Alec. The metal needles were gorgeous and a little dangerous in the faint sunlight. “And I have a great way to defend myself when weird guys jump me in the dangerous streets of Lambertfield,” I added with a flourish of the needles.
Dev, who had been watching us like a ping-pong game, broke into the conversation. “Hey, does that mean you can make me a sweater?”
Still on my silly dramatic high, I gave my needles one last twirl and started slipping them into my bag as if I were putting them into one of those sword-holster things. “You have to be knitworthy to get stuff from me, maybe something small, like socks. And you, my friend, aren’t knitworthy yet.” We shared a grin and I wiggled my needles at him teasingly.
“So, what do I need to do to become ‘knitworthy?’”
“I’ll…I’ll let you know.” Suddenly, what Em told me at the dance popped into my head and the air became incredibly heavy—uncomfortable, like a shrunken and felted wool sweater. I was going to strangle her for sticking ideas into my head and making things so awkward around him. I wracked my brain for some change in the subject. “So, where are you two going? The diner?”
Alec had perched himself on one of the cast iron streetlamp bases a few seconds before, but now hopped off. “We’re on our way to McCaffery field. Damien’s brother is home for the weekend and he said he’d teach us how to play rugby.”
I couldn’t even look Dev in the eye, so I focused on Alec. “Rugby? Just you two are playing against him?”