Absolutely Not in Love (Sweater Weather, #7; Appies, #2)

by Jenny Proctor

“I’m, uh, meeting Ivy.” Not exactly a lie. Ivy is what I call my library. It’s my favorite part of my apartment. It deserves a name.

“I’m, uh, meeting Ivy.” Not exactly a lie. Ivy is what I call my library. It’s my favorite part of my apartment. It deserves a name.

The outside air is crisp and cool and officially feels like fall. Not the fake fall that often happens in the South when summer disappears for three days, then comes back with a vengeance. But actual, for real fall. The kind that isn’t going anywhere.

The outside air is crisp and cool and officially feels like fall. Not the fake fall that often happens in the South when summer disappears for three days, then comes back with a vengeance. But actual, for real fall. The kind that isn’t going anywhere.

I know the feeling… 🤦‍♀️😂

The outside air is crisp and cool and officially feels like fall. Not the fake fall that often happens in the South when summer disappears for three days, then comes back with a vengeance. But actual, for real fall. The kind that isn’t going anywhere.

I know how that is… 😂🤦‍♀️

I riffle through the stack of letters, and—yes. Our mailman is my new favorite person. I’ve got two pieces of Gracie’s mail. It would only be neighborly to return them to her in person.

I riffle through the stack of letters, and—yes. Our mailman is my new favorite person. I’ve got two pieces of Gracie’s mail. It would only be neighborly to return them to her in person.

So cute…

I riffle through the stack of letters, and—yes. Our mailman is my new favorite person. I’ve got two pieces of Gracie’s mail. It would only be neighborly to return them to her in person.

So cute…

“Are you going somewhere?” The question comes out sounding almost like a judgment, so I quickly add, “I only ask because you look really nice. Not that you don’t always look nice. You do. But tonight, with all the black. You—good.”

“I just don’t understand why people can’t meet the old-fashioned way anymore,” I say. “Browsing in a bookstore or picking out oranges at the grocery store. Why does it always have to start on the internet?” “Because it’s hard to meet people when everyone is so glued to their phones,” Summer says matter-of-factly.

💁‍♀️🤦‍♀️

I have to stop thinking about it. I have to pretend like this is just a normal date. No—not even a date. This is just…a conversation that happens to include dinner.

“Look at you fishing for compliments. You aren’t blind, Felix. You know you aren’t unattractive. ” “Maybe. But knowing I’m attractive generally and knowing you find me attractive are not the same thing.”

“That wasn’t funny,” I say. Logan shrugs. “It was a little funny. Eli, did you think it was funny?” “Definitely funny.”

Ah, the team ribbing him 😂

“Does someone want to fill me in on why our usually unflappable goalie is daydreaming today?” A few of the guys laugh, looking back at me, but no one answers Coach’s question. “Okay,” Coach says. “I see how it is. Y’all are making me think I asked the wrong question. How about this one? Felix, what’s her name?” To this, the team breaks out in a series of cheers and catcalls, those standing closest to me reaching over and pounding me on the back.

I run a hand through my hair, my eyes drifting to the case of baked goods beside the checkout counter. There’s no way to ask without showing my hand here, but Emmy seems like the kind of woman I can trust. I motion toward the case. “Do you know if Gracie has a favorite?” Emmy’s expression softens, her lips shifting like she’s fighting a smile. “If she drops by in the morning, she usually gets an apple cinnamon scone. If it’s after work, she’ll get the danish.” “Right.” I nod. “Maybe one of each?”

He’s so thoughtful! 🥰

Felix: This is hard. I feel dumb. I don’t want to come on too strong. Logan: Have you strewn your apartment with flower petals? If you have, ABANDON SHIP.

When the dancing dots show up at the bottom of my screen, I jump up, then sit down again. She’s typing. The dots disappear. She’s not typing? They appear again. I scrub a hand across my face and wait.

😂

It doesn’t take long to realize that Eli has a very specific purpose. Every question he asks Gracie somehow leads back to me. When she mentions her nephew, he talks about how great I am with kids whenever we’re signing team merch or helping out with youth clinics. When she mentions her favorite food—barbecue chicken pizza, and yes, I’m taking notes—he claims my homemade pizza is the best he’s ever had. I’ve never made homemade pizza at all, much less made it for Eli, but I appreciate his efforts anyway. Even if he’s being about as subtle as a semi plowing down the highway.

I grab Gracie’s hand and tug her toward me, then spin us both around so her back is to the wall and I’m hovering in front of her. Gracie lets out a surprised yelp, her arms gripping my biceps until we’re finally still, her breathing coming in shallow gasps. “Hi,” I say. She smiles and gives her head a little shake. “You scared me.” “If you can trust me anywhere, it’s on the ice.”

I can’t promise I won’t ever screw up again. But I can promise I will live every day trying my hardest to put you first—to love you like you deserve.

Gracie laughs as she lifts it over her head, holding it up for me to see. The poster reads MR. DARCY? NAH. GIVE ME FELIX JAMISON.

Haha. Love this! 😆

“Man, you let your nerd flag fly that high and it actually made her like you more?” Despite his joking, he walks over and pulls us both into a crushing group hug. “I’m really happy for you both,” he says, his tone genuine. “Your music sucks, but I’m still happy for you.”