Or does he see something else?
I have so much shit bottled up inside me, I feel like a Coke bottle someone’s been shaking over and over. One of these days, the lid is going to come off, and I’m going to explode.
After washing my hands, I exit the bathroom to find Mia waiting there. Her worried expression has me wanting to touch her. Walking right up to her, I do just that. She’s still wearing the beanie, and fuck if it doesn’t do something for my male pride seeing it on her. I toy with a strand of her dark brown hair.
“You okay?” she asks. “You seemed upset.”
“Just off my game today.” I’m surprised at my confession, but seeing as she steps closer, it feels like the right thing to say to her. Something about Mia doesn’t make me feel so… defensive.
“I thought your game was perfect,” she says. “Don’t let that go to your head.”
“Already did,” I tease. “Both of them.”
She laughs and playfully shoves me. Of course she’s about as powerful as a kitten. I grip her wrists, grinning at her.
“How many non-dates are we going to have before our first date?”
“Hmm, maybe three,” she volleys back.
“So a real date is imminent?”
“If you’re a good boy.”
I don’t know the definition of good, but I’ll pull out the Webster’s dictionary and take a fucking look to find out for her.
My hand finds her hip and she doesn’t push me away. “Can a good boy kiss a good girl on the second non-date? Asking for a friend.”
Hesitation wars in her dark eyes. “I, uh…”
Leaning forward, I kiss her forehead. “My friend’s an idiot. I’ll settle for some good ol’ ass whipping on skee-ball instead. Come on, beautiful.”
Relief flashes in her eyes, and she happily takes my hand. Once again, I realize I made the right move. With Mia, she’s different than other girls I’ve been with. Not a fan girl. A real girl. I didn’t realize how much I craved realness until I met her this week.
We head back out to the dining room where Drew and Ashton are already in a heated skee-ball competition. I can’t help but steal a glance at Drew. In his ball cap and fitted black Henley, he seems younger than when he was coaching our team with such ease earlier. In this moment, he wears his youth well, reminding me that he’s our age and not some old-ass dude.
Mia takes the machine next to Ashton and they fist bump. I take the one next to her. Ashton passes two cups of quarters to us. For the next twenty minutes, while we wait for our pizza to arrive, we play skee-ball. Mia is good, but so are the rest of us. Turns out, we’re all competitive as fuck. It isn’t until the waitress whistles at us that I realize I’ve been laughing and having a good time.
Ben loved skee-ball.
The thought hits me out of nowhere, piling on bricks of guilt faster than I can fling them off. I’m in a cloud as I stumble toward our table, bile rising in my gut. Drew senses my mood immediately. He nods to Ashton and then to Mia.
I don’t even have it in me to argue when Ashton takes my place beside Mia. With my teeth gritted against the pain, I push into the booth, hating how Drew’s concern warms me like a familiar blanket. Ashton watches me for a long moment, and then dives into razzing Mia about her pineapple pizza.
“You okay?” Drew rumbles, his voice low so they don’t hear.
“Yep,” I snap.
He doesn’t flinch at my harsh delivery, but I do. I hate how raw I feel. Rather than facing off with me, his hand covers my thigh and squeezes, providing comfort I didn’t know I needed.
“Breathe,” Drew murmurs. “You’re okay.”
I close my eyes, inhaling through my nose and then exhaling heavily. The chatter across the table continues, and I’m thankful for the reprieve.
“Ben loved skee-ball.” My words come out pained and nothing more than a whisper, but Drew hears them.
“I know, man, I know.”
I go to grab his hand, so I can shove it away, but the moment I touch it, I can’t let go. He twists his hand, capturing mine in his.
“You’re allowed to have fun,” he says gently, squeezing my hand. “You’re allowed to be happy.”
His words have me recoiling. I tug my hand free to grab the glass of beer in front of me. With my eyes closed, I gulp it down. By the time I finish my beer, I’ve locked away my emotions.
Nudging Mia’s foot with mine, I grin at her, though it feels forced this time. I just need to talk about something else. To think about anything other than Ben right now.
“After you eat that weird-ass pizza, we’ll play best of three on skee-ball. Whoever wins chooses where we’ll go for our first real date,” I tell her, ignoring Ashton’s scowl. “And if you win, beautiful, better make it someplace good, because that’ll be where we have our first kiss too.”
Brayden: Be ready in an hour.
I stare at the screen, confused as to how the hell Brayden got my number. I mean, I knew he gave me his number, but I know damn well I haven’t used it.
Just to fuck with him…
Me: New phone, who dis?
Brayden: The guy who’s picking you up for our first official date. You know, the one that’ll end with a kiss that will blow your mind. Now, be ready in an hour, and dress warm.
My heart pitter-patters in my chest at the thought of going on a real date with Brayden. A few days
