One of Us Is Next by Karen M. McManus Page B

his job.”
    Luis pauses at the edge of the table, shooting me a look I can’t decipher. “You want anything? Coffee or…coffee?”
    “I’m good, thanks,” I say. My smile is more of a grimace now, so I let it drop.
    “I’ll bring you some cookies,” he says over his shoulder as he heads for the kitchen.
    Phoebe’s passing by just then, and she pauses, lowering her empty tray to watch Luis’s retreating back. “Why did that sound dirty?” she asks wonderingly. She kicks at my foot and lowers her voice. “He’s so cute. You should make that happen.”
    “In my dreams,” I mutter, returning my eyes to my computer screen. Then I let out a startled yelp of pain when Phoebe kicks me again. Harder. “Ow! What was that for?”
    “For being dense,” she says, dropping into the chair across from me. “He’s into you.”
    “Are you kidding?” I gesture toward the kitchen door as though Luis were standing there, even though he’s not. “I mean, look at him.”
    “Look at you, ” Phoebe says. “Please don’t tell me you’re one of those pretty girls who insists she’s not pretty. That’s tired. You’re hot, own it. And you like him, right? You should let him know instead of getting all weird and frowny when he flirts with you.”
    “I’m not weird and frowny!” I protest. Phoebe just tilts her head, slowly twisting a coppery curl around one finger until I add, “Most of the time. Besides, Luis flirts with everyone. It doesn’t mean anything.”
    Phoebe shrugs. “That’s not my impression. And I’m pretty good at reading guys.” It’s a simple statement of fact, but as soon as she says it the whole mess about her and Emma’s boyfriend pops into my head, and I can’t keep my eyes from widening reflexively. Phoebe bites her lip and looks away. “Although I realize I have zero credibility in that department at the moment, so I’ll let you get back to—whatever,” she says, pushing her chair away from the table.
    My hand is on her wrist before I realize what I’m doing. “No, wait. Don’t go. I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to act judgey but…apparently I’m weird and frowny in lots of situations.” She almost smiles, so I feel brave enough to add, “Look, I know what all this must be like for you. I went through it with Bronwyn last year, so…I’m a good listener if you ever want to talk sometime. Or even, you know, just hang out and set our phones on fire.”
    I’m relieved when Phoebe laughs. I don’t have a lot of practice reaching out to people who haven’t sought me out first, and I half expected her to edge away and never talk to me again. “I might take you up on that,” she says. Then her face falls, and she plucks at a stray thread on her apron. “Emma’s so mad at me. I keep trying to apologize, but she won’t listen.”
    “I’m sorry,” I say. “Maybe you just need to give her a little more time.” Phoebe nods gloomily, and I add, “I hope she’s not mad at just you. I mean, you weren’t the only person involved. Her ex was, too.”
    Phoebe makes a face. “I don’t know if they’ve even talked since she found out. I don’t dare ask.” She cups her chin in one hand and gazes thoughtfully at the brightly colored mosaic tiles mounted on the wall next to us. “I wish I knew how the whole thing got out in the first place. I mean, obviously Derek must’ve told someone, because I sure as hell didn’t. But he lives in Laguna. He doesn’t know anybody here.”
    “How’d you run into him, then? After he and Emma broke up, I mean.”
    “Christmas party at Jules’s house,” Phoebe says. I raise my eyebrows, and she adds, “But Jules doesn’t know him. Derek was there with her cousin. I don’t think they even met that night.”
    “Okay,” I say, filing that nugget of information away for future reference. If there’s one thing last year taught me, it’s to be wary of coincidences. “Well, here’s something that might interest you.