Just Say Yes (Just Press Send Book 3)

Chapter 1

The Bathroom Disaster

Everyone knows how awkward it is to take a shit at your boyfriend's parents' house, but how about taking a shit at their house and clogging their toilet? Son of a motherless goat!

I stood there with my finger on the flusher, cringing as the water rose in the toilet bowl. Gulp.

Thirty minutes ago, I walked into Ty's house to confront his parents and discover why they orchestrated my breakup with Ty. Ty's dad, Nate, wanted Ty to transfer to his alma mater, Fortuna University, and play hockey there. Nate thought I was holding Ty back at Summit University, so he told his dad and Ty's grandfather, Mr. Sawyer, that Ty was failing his classes because of me.

Mr. Sawyer gave me an ultimatum - break up with Ty, or he'd stop paying Ty's tuition and cut him out of the family law firm. So, I did it. But, I realized that I loved Ty, so I came here to get answers. Ty's mom, Jen, had no clue about all the ultimatum crap, and she reamed out Nate about everything. Ty overheard the whole conversation. And so did all their family friends and half of the hockey team because Jen was hosting a charity barbecue. Cue primordial flight instincts.

Twenty minutes ago, I locked myself in the bathroom because I was hella embarrassed that everyone had heard about the ultimatum. Ty followed me to the bathroom, and we had The Talk™. Not the birds and the bees talk. The Talk™ in which we decided we wanted to be together, even after everything.

Plus, it turns out Ty had a scholarship to Summit, so the tuition was a bluff, and he didn't want to be a lawyer; he wanted to be a teacher. We were both crap at communicating, and we recognized that it would take a while to build back that trust, but we were both willing to try.

Ten minutes ago, I kicked Ty out of the bathroom and took a dump. I flushed, and the toilet made an ungodly squelch.

And now I was stuck with a clogged toilet. With Ty waiting outside. My internal temperature ratcheted up a notch. I got all sweaty, and this wasn't a cute glisten - this was an oh-shit-what-do-I-do-armpits-drenched sweat.

Despite my epic shit history, I never clogged a toilet before. I crossed my arms and chewed on my bottom lip.

I ignored the rather...unpleasant bathroom odour. I mean, the smell was my doing. Lavender air freshener sat on the windowsill. I snagged the can and sprayed the small room. Oof, too much. I coughed and set the can back down. Masking the problem wasn't a solution, though.

Would the toilet unclog itself? Eventually.

But this was the bathroom on the first floor - other people would need the toilet too. And they'd know it was me who clogged it. Couldn't have that. My chest tightened as my breathing quickened. I paced the tiny bathroom, legs restless. I lost my footing, my sock-clad foot slipping on the tile. I caught the cold porcelain of the sink to hold me up at the last second. Yikes. Okay, no more pacing allowed. I blew out a series of short breaths to gain control.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breathe.

And think, Nat.

My gaze sharpened. Where was the whatchamacallit? What was that rubber red thing that people use? A plunger?

I scanned the beach-themed bathroom. Nothing looked plunger-esque. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. Oh, under the sink. Duh.

I kneeled, tile digging into my knees, and opened the cupboard. Aha! Cylindrical thingy-ma-bob. My breath bottle up in my chest. I grabbed the cylinder and pulled the handle.

Huh? It was a metal stick with bristles. The breath in my chest popped, and I deflated. That must be to clean the toilet.

The metal cylinder slipped from my sweaty hands and clanged on the tile. I winced. Oopsie, I blame my butterfingers. It rolled before I could stop it, making a weird alien-like metallic sound.