The Dating Intervention: Book 1 in the Intervention Series (25 page)

“I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a total stalker,” Delaney said.
 

“You were cyber-stalking me?” Jake said. “I love this. Go on.”
 

Josie’s tablet dinged and distracted the girls from hearing the rest of the conversation.

“Oh, Mitchell’s already responded. He can do tomorrow. I’ll text her.”
 

“Right now?” Summer said. “When she’s having so much fun?”
 

“Her reaction will tell us everything.”
 

Delaney’s phone chirped. She didn’t quite hide a guilty look as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. The conversation paused.
 

“Sorry,” Delaney said to Jake. “I’m expecting a message.”
 

“More like, ‘I don’t want my friends to know I’m with you,’” Summer whispered to Josie.
 

Delaney’s face fell when she saw the message Josie had sent:
Mitchell wants to meet up tomorrow. Date at 6 p.m. Place TBD.

“Priceless,” Josie whispered. “She looks totally disappointed.”
 

“And guilty,” Summer said.

“Everything okay?” Jake asked.
 

“Yeah,” Delaney answered. “Fine.”
 

Her “fine,” morose and pouty, had Summer and Josie practically hyperventilating with giggles.
 

“Well, I guess we know how she’s feeling about Mitchell.” Josie snickered. “She’s not even texting back.”
 

“Let’s do this again tomorrow when she’s with Mitchell,” Summer said. “I like observing.”
 

***

Delaney had to drag herself out of a deep sleep to turn off the alarm Saturday morning.
 

“Weekend,” she said to Pixie, who glared at her from the foot of the bed. Then she remembered.

“Yoga.”
 

She was supposed to be meeting the girls for that eight a.m. class.
 

Finally, her senses cleared enough that she realized her alarm hadn’t actually gone off. Instead, she’d received a text from Josie.
 

Josie:
No yoga. What was I thinking? I want to sleep in. Then hit the spa.
 

As she was reading the text, Summer’s reply popped up:
Sleeping in is overrated. You can still make it by 8, even if you shower and put on your makeup. See you then.
 

Delaney had seen Summer’s house at seven a.m. Hannah was in her high chair, alternately taking bites of egg or toast and throwing her food on the floor. The boys were running around with swords. Or guns. Or guns they were using as swords. Sarah, the oldest and most civilized, was probably baking something that required a huge amount of flour and would taste like bricks. Summer was, no doubt, wide awake and had been for at least an hour.

Josie:
Nope. I’m putting my phone on silent. Sweet dreams.

Summer:
You’re not very committed. You’re letting yourself down.
 

Delaney, for fun, added:
This isn’t serving you, Josie.

Josie:
Oh, shut up, D. You’re in bed, still, too. See you later.
 

***

Feet freshly buffed and toenails lacquered in a spring shade of aqua, Delaney, Summer and Josie sat in the soaking tub at Hot Rocks, drinking ice water with cucumber slices in it.
 

“You’ve got about five more minutes, Mama,” Josie said to Summer. “We don’t want you cooking that baby.”
 

“I know,” Summer said. “It just feels so nice.”
 

“Mmmmm.” Delaney sank down so the water came up just below her chin. “What are you doing after this, Josie?”
 

“I’m going to take my new toenails shopping for some new shoes. There’s a new shoe store at the mall and I see some sandals in my future. You know, those peep-hole ones?”
 

“With three-inch heels, no doubt,” Summer said. “How do you walk in those things?”
 

Josie stretched her legs dramatically so her toes came out of the water. “It hasn’t always been easy, as you know.”
 

Delaney giggled. “Yeah, Summer. Remember her first time?”

“Homecoming sophomore year,” Summer said.
 

“Are you going to make me relive it? Again?”
 

“Oh, yeah,” Delaney said. “Most definitely.”
 

“So it’s Homecoming night,” Summer began in a spooky voice. “Josie, of course, is on the Homecoming Court. She’s found the perfect dress.”
 

“Silver,” Delaney said. “Silver with a low back.”

“It shows off the curves of which she is so proud,” Summer said.
 

“But,” Delaney said, pausing for emphasis. “There’s just one problem.”
 

“The shoes,” all three of them said, dissolving into giggles.
 

“So,” Summer began, and Delaney went on, “She raids her mom’s closet and finds the perfect pair. Perfect. Silver. With sequins.”
 

“And three-inch heels,” Summer said.
 

“It was traumatic enough the first time,” Josie grumbled.
 

Delaney plowed ahead: “She looks hot. I mean, sizzling.”
 

“She takes the arm of her counterpart, the sexy stud Chris Decoterro. She can feel his bicep through the sleeve of his collared shirt.”
 

“And she’s feeling really good,” Delaney said. “I mean, she looks good, Chris looks good. He smells good. This is her moment.”
 

Josie sank down lower in the spa, pretending to drown herself.
 

Summer went on, “In front of hundreds – no, thousands – of adoring fans, they walk up the steps to the stage.”
 

“The announcers call their names,” Delaney said. “‘Presenting the Duke and Duchess of Juniper High, Josie Garcia and Chris Decoterro.’”
 

“The crowd goes wild.”
 

“No, it doesn’t,” Josie said. “Polite applause follows.”
 

Delaney said, “Can the crowd go wild? Just this once?”
 

“Sure,” Summer said. “The crowd goes wild.”
 

Josie shook her head. Delaney went on, “Then, just as she makes her way off the stage, thinking she’s nailed it in that dress and those shoes, Josie twists her ankle. She grabs onto Chris Decoterro’s arm to keep herself from falling, but he’s not the stud she thought he was. They both go down. Hard. In front of thousands of adoring fans.”
 

“And now the crowd goes wild,” Josie muttered.

“I would have thought you’d swear off wearing heels after that,” Delaney said.
 

“But no,” Summer said. “It only made you more determined.”
 

“That’s right,” Josie said. “And now we never have to revisit that horrible, traumatic night again.”
 

Still smiling, Summer stood up.
 

“Time’s up,” she said. “I’m going to dry off.”
 

As Delaney drove home a while later, relaxed and pliable from the pedicure and the soak, she thought,
it has been so nice to spend an entire afternoon with my friends and, for once, not feel like I was under the microscope.
 

***

“Her aura is decidedly different today,” Summer observed that evening as she and Josie watched Delaney approach The Sweet Tooth. “She’s calmer.”
 

“She also hasn’t put as much work into herself today,” Josie said. “She looks remarkably less ready to
meet
a man, if you know what I mean.”
 

“Well, I should hope she’s not ready to
meet
a man, Josie, if you know what I mean. She shouldn’t be
meeting
any men right now.”
 

“There you are,” Delaney said to a man who looked quite a bit nerdier in person than he did in his FindLove.com profile picture.
 

Mitchell Evans, Esq. had thinning hair, pouchy eyes and a stooped hit-me-while-I’m-down posture.

“Yikes,” Josie said.
 

“Yikes,” Summer agreed.
 

“But it’s no wonder he made the top two.”
 

They’d staked out inside the candy shop, squatting behind a barrel of saltwater taffy near the door. From here, they could see Delaney and Mitchell through a crack between two posters in the window, and they could just make out the sounds of their voices.
 

“Before we go anywhere, Delaney,” Mitchell said in a whiny, high-pitched voice, “I want to tell you I’m really sorry about the other night. It was too soon for me to go home with you. I’m really sorry.”
 

“Ew,” Summer said, making a face. “Sounds like they’ve already
met
, if you know what I mean.”
 

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Josie said.

“Of course she didn’t tell us. She didn’t want to face our questioning.”
 

“She wouldn’t have,” Josie said. When Summer leveled a long look at her, she said, “Okay. She would. But still.”
 

“And she likes Jake so much.”
 

“You know, Summer,” Josie said, a defensive edge creeping into her voice, “Delaney doesn’t have the market on self-sabotage. We’ve all been there.”

“Don’t you dare use this as an excuse to sabotage your principal application.”

“I won’t! I’m not. I swear. I’m just saying.”
 

“Hm.”

***

When Mitchell suggested he and Delaney go back to his place and order Chinese takeout, Delaney’s tight smile showed a mixture of relief and annoyance.
 

“That sounds fine,” she said.
 

Josie said, “She probably wants to go to his place so they can turn on the TV and she can ignore him.” Summer nodded and said, “But going back to his place seems sleazy after their last
meeting
.”
 

“Oh. I wasn’t thinking,” Mitchell said then, his pasty complexion coloring. “We don’t have to. Let’s just go to Red Lantern and eat there.”
 

From their spot behind the saltwater taffy barrel, Summer whispered, “Good boy, Mitchell.”
 

“We’d better hit it,” Josie said.
 

When Delaney and Mitchell headed west, Summer and Josie headed east. Once they turned the corner to go north and then west again, they broke into a full run in order to beat Delaney and Mitchell to the restaurant. They were seated, red linen napkins on their laps, slightly breathless, when Delaney and Mitchell walked in.
 

Josie would later remark that Delaney’s face when she saw them (stunned, then angry, then contorted into a terrible smile) was better than priceless, but at the moment, it was all she could do to stop her laughter from bubbling out. The whole thing was so absurd, really. But Summer’s hard kick under the table reminded her to hold it together.
 

“Why, Delaney Collins!” Summer said, infusing her voice with surprise and a Southern lilt. “What are
you
doing here?”
 

Delaney, who’d stopped stone cold upon entering the dining room, gathered her composure just enough to say, “Eating. You?”
 

“Oh, just grabbing a bite,” Josie said. “You know.”
 

“Oh, I do know,” Delaney said slowly. “I do.”
 

“Who’s your companion?” Summer asked.
 

“Oh.” Delaney cleared her throat. “Mitchell. This is Mitchell.”
 

“Oh, how lovely to meet you,” Josie said.
 

“Yes, just lovely,” Summer echoed. “I’m Summer. And this is Josefina.”
 

The hostess, who’d watched the exchange with more patience than even Summer had, finally interrupted: “Would you like to sit here?”
 

She motioned to the table adjacent to Summer and Josie’s.
 

“Oh, uh, sure,” Mitchell stammered. The hostess started laying the menus on the table. She jumped a little when Delaney said they’d been hoping for something a little more private and romantic, but she recovered quickly, picked up their menus and began walking to a table on the other side of the dining room.
 

“No, it’s fine,” Mitchell insisted, following the hostess and taking the menus from her. “We’ll eat here.”
 

“Great,” Delaney muttered.
 

Mitchell opened his menu while Delaney glared at Summer and Josie.
 

“I hear the cashew chicken is to die for,” Summer said to Mitchell, leaning toward him.
 

“You know, I need to use the restroom,” Delaney said. “Please excuse me.”
 

As she walked away, Mitchell cleared his throat and said, “Allergic to nuts, actually.”

***

She was still pacing the bathroom when Josie walked in.
 

“What are you
doing
here?” Delaney hissed.
 

“Just getting a bite,” Josie said coolly. “The cashew chicken really is good.”
 

“You’re spying on me.”
 

“You had
sex
with him?!” Josie said.
 

Delaney began pacing again. She’d known it the moment she’d invited him to come home with her. She’d known they would find out. They always did. And although she should have anticipated they’d stoop so low as to spy on her, she hadn’t expected it. She felt stupid. She felt betrayed. And she felt angry.
 

“I chose to. I wanted to. I wanted sex. He was nice. Is that so bad? You didn’t even go to
yoga
!”
 

“We’re talking about you, not me, Delaney. Rule Number Eight. No sex.”

“You know what? You say
everything
is Rule Number Eight! Three-drink limit, no logging onto FindLove.com, no sex. It’s
all
Rule Number Eight to you!”
 

Josie shrugged. “We didn’t say no kissing. No messing around. No going to third base. No having a decent orgasm. We said no sex. You don’t even like this guy. We saw the way you lit up when you met Jake at the fountain yesterday —”