by Jamie Howard
Me: Hey, sorry I haven’t texted in a while. I haven’t forgotten about you though ;). I’ve been thinking. We’ve been chatting for a bit and would it be all that crazy if we met?
I show her my phone. “Happy?”
“As a clam.”
Delia scrunches up her nose. “That’s such a weird expression. Do like, clams actually get happy?”
Huh, I have no freaking clue. One corner of my mouth twitches and I bite back my smile. Kyle would. He’d know something like that—whether clams feel or not, or where that stupid saying comes from.
A shrill chirp from my phone interrupts my thoughts. I tilt it so that Tara and Delia can read it with me.
Clark: I’m flattered, really, but I’m not sure that’s the best idea. It’s kinda nice the way things are and I wouldn’t want to ruin that. Don’t hate me?
Me: Hey, I get it. I respect that. We’ve got a good thing going here, and I wouldn’t want to mess that up either.
“Damn,” Tara mumbles. “Well, there goes my plan. I was seriously hoping I wouldn’t have to come up with a plan B.”
I flash her a grin. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got this one under control.”
Chapter 18
Kyle
The glass door to the cafeteria swings shut in my face, and I take a step back from the entrance, shoving one hand down into my front pocket. The place is teeming with people, like ants scurrying around a lollipop that was accidentally dropped on the ground. Every table is packed, loaded down to capacity. The wall of noise is barely contained by the glass, and snatches of conversation burst through the door every time it swings open.
“Well, then,” Haley says, delicately resting one hand on her hip. “Think it’s the special?”
I have to take a step closer to read the small sign posted outside the cafeteria door—Taco Salad. “Maybe? Is that something that sounds really appealing?”
“Cafeteria taco meat? Not particularly.” She taps her foot against the ground, the toe of her red stiletto clicking against the marble. From there, I can’t help sweeping my gaze up her toned calves to her navy skirt, and then up over her light blue pinstripe button-down. My eyes linger there a little, where a hint of cleavage shows through the popped button at the top. God, she’s gorgeous when she’s at work—all sexy and spiffed up in her classy, professional clothes. Not that she isn’t gorgeous all the time. But these outfits have inspired a fantasy or two. She makes the clothes, not the other way around.
“Kyle?”
I blink hard and redirect my eyes to her face. “Yeah?”
“I said did you want to brave the mob or try and find somewhere else to eat?”
“Right.” I scratch a hand over my jaw. “I know a place, not too far. They’ve got good sandwiches.”
She gestures ahead with her hand, and my stupid heart squeezes with the thought of threading my fingers through hers. Enough already. I have got to get over this. Nothing is going to happen between us. Nothing. You hear that, heart?
I hold the door open for her, and the warm spring sun beats down on me from above, the smell of car exhaust and pizza assaulting my nose. A man, weighed down by four grease-stained pizza boxes, flashes me a grateful smile when I keep the door propped open for him.
It’s only a short walk around the corner to the café, and I’m happy to find the place only mildly busy. The aged wood floors shine from a good polishing, and the walls are covered in photographs. So much so that you can barely see the maroon paint sneaking through between the multicolored frames. We step up to the counter and order—smoked turkey and cheese on a croissant for her, and a BLT for me.
Settling down into an empty table for two along the window, I give the time a quick check. Mr. March is never super strict about lunch breaks, but I don’t like to take advantage of it.
Haley takes a bite of her sandwich and groans. “Wow, this is amazing. Why’ve you been keeping this place a secret?”
I shift in my seat. God I have such a love/hate relationship with that type of noise coming out of her mouth. “You like it?”
“Love it. I don’t know why we were ever wasting our money in the cafeteria.” A small dab of mayonnaise clings to the edge of her lip and her tongue darts out to lick it away. My mind immediately conjures up plenty of other things she could do with that tongue.
Biting off a chunk of my BLT, I give myself a mental smackdown. No more thinking about Haley. It’s a dead end, a lost cause. Instead, let’s think about my blind date—Kerry. Kyle and Kerry, that has a nice ring to it doesn’t it? Or is it a little obnoxious with the whole double-“K” thing? You know what? Who cares? Brian swears up and down she’s pretty and that I’m her type.
I decide to spill the good news to Haley, but we both start talking at the same time. My “Guess what” collides with her “I wanted to ask you.”
Haley laughs into her napkin. “You first.”
I take a sip of my Coke, the bubbles gliding down my throat. “So, Brian’s setting me up on a blind date.” My mouth curves up of its own volition. I stop thinking about Haley for ten seconds, and I’m actually able to remember that I’m really looking forward to my date with Kerry.
Haley on the other hand isn’t smiling at all. It actually kinda looks like she’s eating rotten cheese or something.
“A date?” she asks.
My cheeks heat. Also without my permission. “I know it doesn’t happen all that much, but it’s not that hard to believe.”
“That’s not what I meant. Sorry. You just … surprised me a little.” Her hand hesitates, then inches forward across the table and pats the back of my hand. What the hell? “That’s great, really. Is she um, I mean, tell me about her.” Her lip tucks in at the corner like she’s biting the inside of her cheek, and one hand drifts up to play with her necklace.
“Well, technically I haven’t talked to her yet, so I don’t really know all that much about her. Brian says she’s really cute though.” My shoulders do something kind of like a shrug.
“Right.” She lets out a little chuckle that doesn’t sound at all like she’s amused. Her eyes look everywhere but at me. It’s like she’s replaced her eyes with bouncy balls and they’re just jumping everywhere.
Well, this is weird.
“Haley, are you … okay?”
“What?” Finally, she’s focused back on me. “Of course. Yeah. Fine.” She lifts up her sandwich and takes an enormous bite. Like a me-size bite. Her cheeks puff out with the effort of trying to chew it. She smiles around her mouthful and gives me a thumbs-up.
I have no idea what’s happening here.
A voice comes from somewhere behind her. “Haley?”
Her throat works as she tries to swallow. Lifting a hand to her mouth, she rotates in her seat. Her eyes nearly bug out of her head. “Bryce?”
He runs a hand through his sandy-blond hair and flicks a glance at me. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I just, when I saw you…” He shakes his head. “I should’ve taken a hint when you never called, right?”
“No, no!” Haley pushes herself to her feet, a grin splitting her face. “I tried to call.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
“Really. Hold on.” Digging through her purse, she steps closer to him. So close that she’s practically leaning up against his chest.
The name Bryce is ringing a bell in my head but I can’t quite place it. Who the hell is this well-dressed, GQ-looking guy? Because I’m really not a fan.
“See?” She points to something on her phone. “It’s the wrong number, right?”
He tilts the phone toward him, his fingers casually overlapping hers. “Shit. I’m seven-three-four-nine.” He beams down at her. “God, I can’t believe I found you again.”
Her head quirks to the side. “Well, now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do with me?”
I’m tempted to clear my throat, or maybe drop something on the floor. It’s like my brand-new superpower of invisibility kicked in and the
y can no longer freaking see me.
“First, I’m going to get your number, and I’m going to triple-check that it’s right. Then before I leave here I’m going to convince you to go on a date with me. This weekend. Whatta ya say?”
“I … yes. That’d be great.”
While Haley inputs her number into Bryce’s phone and I manage to get the jealousy-induced fog to recede from my brain, a memory clicks into place. This guy. This guy is the entire reason that Haley started texting me, why this whole debacle with Clark got started in the first place.
Wait, did Haley actually tell me about this guy or is it something only Clark would know? My mind blanks as I try and remember what information belongs to me and what I’ve gleaned as Clark. Crap, I can’t remember.
I look him over one more time. Expensive suit, stupid-ass grin on his face, and it looks like he has a second home at the gym. Fuck me, and if I hadn’t suggested this place for lunch she never would have run into him again. Well, probably not. Damn this guy and his similar phone number.
I clench my jaw and try to force my thoughts into the friend zone. Haley was really interested in this guy back when she first told me about him. Or told Clark about him, I can’t remember. So, this is great news for her. I’m happy for her. I try to work up a smile, but my cheeks are fighting me on it.
“Oh, God. I’m so rude.” Haley shakes her head. “Bryce, this is my friend Kyle. Kyle, this is Bryce.”
I stand and brush my hands on my pants, then give his hand a good shake. I give myself a mental tick mark for being taller than him; it’s just about the only category I’m going to be winning against this guy.
“Nice to meet you,” he says.
“You too.”
“Anyway.” He turns back to Haley. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll call you so we can settle our plans for this weekend?”
She holds up her phone toward him. “I’ll be waiting.”
He strides toward the door, then turns around and yells back to her, “This place is my new favorite restaurant.”
It’s a café, not a restaurant, dumbass.
Haley’s still chuckling to herself when she slides back into her seat. Her face is all lit up like she’s about ready to explode with happiness.
I corral my brain back into a positive place. Kerry. That’s what I should be thinking about—our date, how well it’s going to go.
Haley nudges me under the table, the toe of her shoe brushing against my ankle. “It’s great, right?”
“Super.” My voice is a little low on conviction but she doesn’t seem to notice.
“Both of us with dates this weekend.” She reaches across the table, and this time she does squeeze my hand. “This is going to be great.”
Chapter 19
Haley
I drum my gold sandals up and down on the carpet, my legs bouncing against the couch. Nope, I can’t sit still. I hop to my feet and try to pace off some of my nervous energy. I shouldn’t be this nervous; it’s just a stupid date. One that, if I’m being honest, I don’t even really want to go on.
I can’t stop wishing it were Kyle coming to pick me up in twenty minutes. And what the hell is wrong with my brain? My heart sang, flat out started composing music when I met Bryce two months ago. Things were storybook perfect. Or just plain perfect. But from then till now, it doesn’t feel the same.
Bryce is sinfully handsome and sweet. And yet, when I was standing next to him in the café, I couldn’t help thinking that I wished he were taller like Kyle, or that his hair were a little darker and a little longer on the top like Kyle’s, or that he knew the difference between a restaurant and a café because that’s something Kyle would definitely know. Ugh, the only reason I even agreed to go out with Bryce is because of Kyle’s blind-date bombshell. I wonder if he could tell I was faking the enthusiasm and gluing my smile in place.
Tara pokes her head out of the bathroom, her toothbrush protruding from her mouth. “What are you doing?”
I skid to a halt, my dark hair swinging over my shoulders. “I’m just … walking. Waiting for my date.”
She frowns, then turns to spit some toothpaste in the bathroom sink. She’s back a second later. “You have a date tonight?”
“Yup.”
“Did I … set this one up?”
I laugh. “No, but good to hear that you’re not even sure.” Tara’s five-date plan fell by the wayside after bad date number three when her classes picked up. Can’t say I was all that upset about it and I certainly haven’t gone out of my way to remind her about it either.
“So, why don’t I know about this? Why didn’t you tell me? Who is it with?” She ceases her rapid-fire questions to bounce on her toes. “Oh my God! Tell me it’s with Kyle.”
I grind my teeth together. “Nope. Bryce.”
“Bryce…”
I wave my hands in the air. “The wrong-number guy.”
“Ohhhh. Wait, how did this even happen?”
“It’s a really long story and he’ll be here any minute.” With a hand I gesture down at the navy shirtdress I’m wearing. It’s cinched tight around my middle and falls a few inches above my knees. “Is this okay for a date?”
“It’s perfect. It’d be too casual without the necklace.” She steps closer and adjusts the chunky necklace that’s edged in gold and sporting pale pink stones. “I don’t know about the sandals though, I normally recommend heels. Unless the guy’s short? Is he?”
“A little.”
“Right, so good call. You never want to be taller than him if you can help it. It’s a power-play thing.”
“That’s stupid.”
“But true.”
I shrug, trying not to think about how I wouldn’t have to worry about being too tall around Kyle. It’s never something I had to worry about with Luke either. There, that thought swept Kyle right out of my mind.
A knock resounds on the door and Tara gives me an excited smile. Ducking back into the bathroom, she pokes her head out the door and motions for me to answer it, mouthing: Go.
Straightening the hem of my dress, I cross the room and open the door, a smile pinned in place. Bryce grins at me, his green eyes sparkling in the light. “Wow, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you. And how about you?” I gesture toward him. He’s wearing a pair of dark khaki pants and a navy-and-white-striped sweater that’s pushed back to his elbows, revealing a tanned, muscled expanse of forearm that’s dusted with golden hairs. “You look great.”
Actually, it kinda looks like we’re trying to match. Is it too late to go change real quick?
“These are for you.” He hands over a huge bouquet of red roses that weighs down my arms. I dip my nose toward them, loving the delicate smell. Finally, one category he measures up to Kyle in.
“These are gorgeous. Thank you.”
“Pretty flowers for a pretty lady.” He winks at me. I wait for his look to send something zinging to my stomach, to make my toes curl in anticipation for tonight, but instead … nothing happens.
My smile tries to abandon me. “I’m just going to slip these in some water. Give me one second and then we can go.”
Filling a vase with water, I settle the flowers into it, arranging the baby’s breath in the spaces between the vibrant blooms. Once they’re all taken care of, I lean my hands against the counter and drop my head between my shoulders. What is wrong with me? There is a great guy who brought me flowers for God’s sake and all I can think about is what’s going on with Kyle and his date.
When I look back up, I find Tara looking questioningly at me, her ratty T-shirt hanging off her shoulder. A whole boatload of questions sails across her eyes, but before she has a chance to ask a single one, I’m back to my smiling self and out the door.
The drive to the restaurant is quiet. Sports radio filters through the speakers in Bryce’s Mercedes, barely audible over the drone of the tires eating up the road. The leather seat is cool and soft against my skin, and the sky has faded outside my wi
ndow to that bluish-greenish color that reminds me of the ocean. I don’t let myself think about it much, but I miss Briscoll Bay—the sand between my toes, the small-town feel, my quiet spot on the beach.
Half an hour later, we’re there, pulling up underneath an overhang that has Il Villaggio written in gold script across the front. A valet sweeps open my door, and in the next breath, Bryce has his hand resting on the small of my back, guiding me forward. Little twinkling lights wrap around small trees that flank the entrance, and once we step inside, I have to tip my head back to take it all in.
The ceiling is high, like really high, and dark wooden beams run perpendicular across it. From somewhere, smooth classical music is being pumped into the room, and the sound of it blends with the buzz of voices. The lighting is romantically dim, and everywhere I look, I see couples.
Bryce hands over his name to confirm our reservation, and we’re led immediately to a table. One half of it is a booth, while the other sports a chair. I slip into the booth side, and am once again sitting on top of black leather. A small square candleholder is centered on the table, the flame jumping and dancing, casting the table in a warm, yellow light.
“This place is amazing.” I slide my menu into my lap to look it over.
“I love it here. Always have. I know right now it’s got more of a couples’ thing going on, but my family used to eat lunch here every Sunday afternoon.”
“So, what’s good to eat?”
“Everything.” He laughs. “Seriously, you can’t go wrong.”
After much debate, I go with the chicken saltimbocca, and Bryce picks a tried-and-true classic—lasagna. He orders a bottle of red for the table, and even though I’m not much of a drinker, I go with it.
Despite my earlier reluctance to go out tonight, my tension unravels and our conversation is easy and open, just like the first night we met.
