Her phone rang. She looked down to where she’d set it on the counter. Of course Stacey would FaceTime her. She pressed Accept.
“Let me see,” Stacey said, her face filling the screen.
Everly turned and faced the mirror so her friend could see.
“Good. Hair looks great down. You should wear it that way more. Subtle makeup. Add a bit of that gloss before you leave the house, and don’t chew it off. That sweater looks kick-ass on you. Your boobs look hot.”
Because I’m sweating everywhere. Everly smirked. “If only it were you I was trying to impress tonight.”
“Too late for that. Besides, you don’t have to impress anyone. Just be yourself.”
“I’m going to try to be a little less myself than I am right now,” Everly said, leaving the bathroom.
“Hives?”
“Not yet. Too much sweat.”
“It doesn’t show.” Stacey scrunched her brows on the screen. She was really looking.
“Nerves, one to ten?”
“Twelve. I might be sick.” She touched her hand to her stomach.
“Look at me,” Stacey said, her tone sharpening.
“Stacey. I’m literally looking right at you.”
Undeterred by Everly’s sarcasm, she nodded. “That’s right, now listen to me. You deserve to have a bunch of good-looking, fun bachelors take you out and treat you right. This doesn’t have to go anywhere. Focus on tonight. Just tonight. The very worst thing that will happen is you won’t enjoy the evening, so you don’t go out with him again.”
“Wow. You really have not considered all the other terrible things that could happen.”
Stacey sighed, but not in exasperation. “Give it to me.”
“Okay. He could be a pervert, a weirdo. I said no face tattoos but he has other ones and might just be waiting for the right moment to shave his head and get his skull inked. He could have a girlfriend, a wife. Both. A slinky underwear fetish. You know I hate thongs. He could be duller than my Broadcasting History course was even though his hobbies included zip-lining and hiking. Oh my God, he could want to go zip-lining.”
Her friend held up one hand. “Stop. I get it. Jesus, your brain is like an overpacked freeway in the middle of rush hour.” Her tone was soft and so … accepting, Everly’s eyes watered. “Sweetie, you’ve got this. Get out of your own brain. Breathe.”
“I have to go.” She couldn’t talk about it anymore.
“You’ve got this. The Facebook post looked great and has hundreds of comments. You heard his on-air interview. He’s funny and sounds sweet. The whole city is rooting for you.”
No pressure. After Everly chose two guys—well, she’d actually chosen them all—they’d decided to interview each man and play clips as part of their promos. They’d also gone with Facebook posts that allowed more interaction than a blog. Everly was keeping notes in her rule book just because sometimes her anxiety ramped so high she forgot things.
“Hopefully, I won’t let them down.”
“Okay. You know what?” Stacey said, her tone rising.
“What?” A stitch tugged at Everly’s side. Did Stacey think she should change? Maybe gray would be better. Maybe …
“I’m adding a new life rule. Not for your list but just so I don’t have to kick your ass. Believe in yourself. I mean it. You have faith in everyone else. Have some faith in my best friend.”
Surprise, and a bit of amusement, pulled a smile from Everly. “That’s like a teacher tone you’ve got going on there.”
Stacey nodded. “I didn’t like it, so don’t make me use it again.”
They were both smiling when Everly hung up the phone. Believe in yourself. Interesting concept. There are 457 applicants to date you. Maybe you should have a little faith.
It wasn’t really a world full of strangers she was worried about; it was her job and Stacey’s. This contest had already started bringing more money into the station. More companies were willing to pay premium prices for the advertising spots on their show than even a week ago.
She’d just gotten in her car when her phone rang again. She pressed Accept through the steering wheel so she could get going and not be late. He could be late.
“Hello.” She swung out into the post-rush-hour traffic.
“Hey. It’s Chris.”
Her body relaxed. “Hi. Everything okay?”
“Of course. Just wanted to check on you.”
She stopped at the light at the end of her street. “I’ve been on a date before. I’m good.” What he doesn’t know …
The silence made her think maybe she’d lost the call. She turned right and headed toward the restaurant she’d picked out.
“You don’t have to pretend this isn’t hard for you. I just wanted to tell you that no matter how it turns out, I admire you.”
The words warmed her in an unexpected way. She tended to err on the realist side of things as opposed to being warm and fuzzy. But something about the soft cadence of his voice and the fact that he’d called her on her false bravado boosted her confidence. She thought of making a joke about the admiration piece, but she knew it was because of her nerves, and it felt nice to have someone—other than Stacey—acknowledge that they were real, that even if she was overreacting, she was allowed to feel how she felt.
“Thank you.”
“Talk later?”
She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Sure.”
When she hung up, she realized she was now looking forward to the evening. Or at least the end of it.
* * *
Owen Baston was waiting for her by the hostess station. His leather jacket and slightly too-long hair looked less intimidating in person, but butterflies still unfurled in her gut. His eyes caught hers immediately, giving her no time to prepare or take a moment to get her breathing under control. His brownish-red hair was messily styled. Or maybe he woke up that way. He didn’t look like he cared about how his hair looked. His eyes crinkled at the corners when the smile moved all the way up his slightly stubbled cheeks. He wore a black sweater under the leather bomber with dark jeans. Some of those butterflies batted their lashes. This man could be a poster model for their contest. Want to find the one? Find it right here on 96.2 SUN.
Everly pressed her fingernails into her palm, acknowledging the increase of her pulse and waiting for those other telltale signs: quivering heart, somersaulting belly, that quick rush of adrenaline. Maybe this was why she had so little luck in love—the feelings of panic and attraction were incredibly similar. How was she supposed to know the difference?
“Everly?” Even his voice was nice.
What was wrong with her? You’re guarded. Just breathe. Or at least talk. Try talking and breathing. “Yes. Owen.” She didn’t make it a question.
He leaned in, one hand on her shoulder. Everly didn’t know if he was going to hug her or kiss her cheek or squeeze her arm. Like she’d spiked her water with Red Bull, she tried to accommodate all three: stepping into him, lifting her arm a bit, and turning her head, which she then smacked into his chin.
Owen laughed and stepped back, rubbing his chin while Everly pressed her feet firmer to the marble lobby floor and counted silently to stave off passing out. Awesome.
“Off to a good start. Sorry about that,” he said.
She flinched. “No. I’m sorry. I tend to be awkward in new situations. Which I probably shouldn’t say, but I made it pretty obvious, so it seems better that you know, I know. That I’m aware of it. I’m not oblivious or anything. Honestly, you can run if you want.”
Could she turn around and just walk out? Owen took it in stride, laughing at her rambling, earning him about a dozen checks in the pro column so far. The hostess smiled at them.
“Oh, good. Your party has arrived. Come this way,” she said, turning to walk through the rows of tables.
“I’m rarely ever called a party all by myself,” Everly muttered jokingly. The hostess didn’t hear, but Owen clearly did. His lips
twitched, and she shrugged. “Just don’t want you to get your hopes up.” Owen’s hand came to her elbow, not grabbing or holding. Just guiding. He leaned down just a little. “I’ll try to keep my expectations realistic.”
Everly laughed, surprised and a little relieved. Maybe this would be okay. They stopped at a booth at the back of the restaurant. Tiny votives were arranged in a circle in the center. Everly’s breath came easier. She’d already gotten the make-a-fool-of-herself portion of the evening out of the way. They were set apart from the busier part of the restaurant, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Chris had requested that. To anyone else, it would seem romantic, but for her, it helped her relax.
“Your waitress will be with you in just a couple of minutes,” their hostess said.
To his credit, Owen waited for her to slide into the bench seat before he sat across from her. A gentleman. A handsome, easygoing one. Not exactly a hardship. She looked around, noticing how busy the restaurant seemed and again wondering if Chris had gone the extra step to ensure her comfort.
“Are you okay?” Owen shrugged off his jacket, tossing it on the seat beside him and leaning back against the padded booth.
Soft music played from the speakers, dishes clanged somewhere beyond them, and the scent of bread and flowers wafted through the air. She focused on those sensory things for a moment, tapped her fingers against her thigh.
“I am. I’m sorry. I get pretty nervous. I just … well, this is all a bit overwhelming.” Honesty worked. They were adults.
“I get that. A couple of the guys at my work told me about the contest. Three of us from the company entered. I was pretty stoked when I got chosen. But I was nervous, too.”
It was strangely soothing to know he hadn’t been 100 percent worry-free. Not that she wished nerves on anyone, but clearly she wasn’t alone. If she shifted how she approached this—treated it more like a work thing—maybe she could get to a point that she relaxed entirely. She did preinterviews for the station all the time, and it’s not like she was totally inept at talking to people. She just froze under pressure. Around strangers. In large gatherings. Stop.
Everly smiled brightly. “You work for a brewery?”
He nodded just as the waitress approached. Red hair tied back from her face, she smiled at both of them and placed ice water on the table.
“Good evening. Welcome to Antony’s.”
She went through the specials at Mach speed, but they went with items off the menu—linguini for Everly and seafood manicotti for Owen. He ordered a wine, but Everly stuck with water. Leaving them with bread to snack on, the waitress promised to put their orders in right away.
Owen waited a beat before he returned to their conversation. “I’m senior manager of product development. I’ve been there since I was nineteen. I interned before I ever got hired. How about you? What’s being a producer like?”
She found her footing and settled into the evening. There were a few moments where she was able to drop her guard enough to laugh and have fun. The meal was delicious, and Owen was funny and charming. Could she open up to him? It was the first date in a long time that she enjoyed. That was something.
The one time their fingers touched over the bread, she felt a small spark of warmth—like putting her hand too close to a match. Not that bread was an aphrodisiac or anything, but it was a good sign. She wanted that moment, that pause where her heartbeat sped up. Like when she was a kid and she had a crush on Jamie Steiner. They’d had to hold hands in square dancing, and her fingers shook before he’d even slid his sweaty palm into hers. Her heart had stuttered.
So, basically, you’re waiting for a man to make you feel like you’re thirteen again? No wonder you can’t find happiness, Everly. Give it time. You expect too much, too fast.
“Your bill and gratuity have been taken care of,” the waitress said when she returned after clearing their plates.
Owen walked her out to her car, and there was a moment she thought he might lean in to kiss her, and her body braced, readied for impact. Her breath froze in her lungs, and she had an image of not being able to breathe right at the moment their lips would touch. It surprised her when Owen stepped back with a half smile, giving her space as if he realized she needed it. The gesture made her want him to kiss her—almost. It definitely made her curious about what it would be like to have those very nice-looking arms pull her close.
“Guess I’ll know how it went when I read Facebook, huh?”
Everly laughed, running her fingers over her key chain. “I had a really good time. You’re easy to talk to and spend time with.”
“Same with you, Everly. It was a really good night. For the record, I’d like to kiss you, but I should probably give the other guys at least half a chance, right?”
She liked his confidence and that he could make her laugh. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“One more thing?” He stepped closer, and Everly’s breath caught in that way it did when she was anticipating something good.
“Hmm?” Thank goodness you didn’t have garlic. Wait. He did. Her mouth went dry.
“Your ex was an idiot.” He stepped away again.
She didn’t know what to say, so she got in her car, waved once more, and drove home.
She thought of phoning Stacey on the way home, but she wasn’t ready to break down the evening just yet. The nervous energy that had fueled her through the evening began to dissipate, and by the time she arrived home, she wanted pajamas and a glass of wine. She’d earned them.
It wasn’t until she was heading up her walkway that she saw Chris. He was sitting on the top of the four stairs that led up to the entrance. He’d clearly run his hands through his dark hair several times. He wore a pair of jeans and an NYU sweater that was tattered at the sleeves. Well-worn sweaters were the best, and his looked like an old favorite. Chris’s gaze roamed down once, back up, stopped at her eyes. Everly’s heart stuttered. What was he doing here?
“Hey,” he said.
Her words got caught in her throat while her fingers tap, tap, tapped against her purse. Taking a deep breath, Everly sat beside him, her thigh touching his. Her fingers shook. She pressed them to her legs.
Act normal. Like, other people’s normal. “Hey.”
They sat there, the stars and nearly full moon above them, breathing in the crisp air, saying nothing. The moment couldn’t last. The best ones never could. Everly knew that. This new thing between them couldn’t become something more. She knew that, too. But it was the best moment of her night.
[13]
Chris had no right to be there. None. Yet sitting with her in the quiet of night, the stars peeking at them from behind pockets of clouds, Chris didn’t want to be anywhere else. There were a lot of things he wanted, though, and he’d learned early on in life that if he had an end goal, frivolous desires did nothing but get in the way. Knowing that didn’t push him to leave. It was too rare, in his life, to be exactly where he wanted to be. The thought made him frown, so he pushed it away.
Turning his head, stopping himself from breathing her in—or, worse, leaning into her—he asked, “How was the date?”
Her smile flipped the want switch inside of him up to full blast. “It was actually really good. I had fun.”
Not the answer he’d expected. His stomach reacted like she’d punched him. You want this for her. He’d come here to let her talk it out, to support her, to be there for her even though she would never ask. He wasn’t one of her people. Okay, he wasn’t Stacey. He was invested, though, and there was nothing wrong with letting her know he had her back. They could be friends in addition to coworkers.
Happiness shone in her eyes, and she didn’t look tense. He hadn’t considered that—her having fun. This is a good thing. Damn good. Might speed up the whole process and make the ratings soar. He pictured the headlines: RADIO SHOW PRODUCER FINDS LOVE IN ROUND ONE. His heart slipped like a lead weight down to his stomach.
Everly’s accelerated breathing brought hi
m back to the moment. Their faces had moved closer, and she was looking at his lips, which made him look at hers, and that want twisted hard into outright desire. Friends. You want to be friends with this woman.
“Did he kiss you?”
She sucked in a breath.
Chris stood up. “Sorry. None of my business.” Shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he tried to come up with an excuse for being there on her doorstep. Like a teenager with an unrequited crush. Pathetic. He really needed to get his head on right, and standing on Everly’s walkway wasn’t doing it.
Everly stood up and walked to him, looking up at him with a new curiosity he absolutely could not explore. She opened her mouth to speak, and his heart glitched. Short-circuited.
“I just … I don’t know why. I was curious. Sorry. I was worried about you and thought I’d drop by. I hope that’s okay?” You should babble more, man. Sound more incoherent.
“Of course it is. It’s nice that you did. You’re welcome to anytime. Especially if you bring treats.”
An open invitation. He wasn’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Now what? “Listeners will be curious about how it went. No pressure, but the sooner you get your date recap on Facebook, the happier they’ll be.” Falling back on work conversation was always his go-to. “I’m glad it went well, but you’ve still got another date this week, so no falling in love after one pasta dinner.”
Whatever he thought he saw in her gaze seconds earlier shuttered. She brought her hands together, twisting them in a rubbing motion. He’d made her nervous, put her on edge. He hated that. Chris reached out to touch her shoulder, but she stepped back.
“I’ll get the post done tonight. I wanted to ask…” She trailed off, inhaled deeply, let it out slowly.
Anything. His heart puffed up. “What?” Did his voice crack? Jesus. He really was reverting to a teenager.
“Did you ask the restaurant to put us somewhere removed from the crowd?”
Ten Rules for Faking It Page 11
