Page 35 of Shots on Net

“You guys should come to a game, sometime,” Jefferson adds. “Seriously, it’s a lot of fun. The fans are wild, the game is wild. Everything is wild.”

Carter huffs a laugh, so softly that I doubt anybody heard it but me. I turn my head to smile at him.

“Well, maybe I’ll come with you, sometime,” Gemma says, clearly trying to sound enthusiastic but failing. She looks from me to Carter, who is standing behind me and well within my personal bubble. “I didn’t realize that you were seeing one of the hockey players, Zeke. You’ve never struck me as a sports fan.”

“Oh, we’re just roommates,” I correct. “And I wouldn’t say I’m much of a sports fan, per se. More of a Carter fan. But I’m getting there.”

Jefferson makes a choked noise, drawing my attention to his face. He’s not looking at me, however, but over my shoulder to where Carter is looming above me. I turn to look as well, locking eyes with him.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” he says quietly. “Do you want anything?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

I watch him until he’s disappeared into the kitchen before turning back to the group. Jefferson is staring at me and frowning. Now that Carter is gone, the conversation reverts back to the physics article but I’m distracted by the look on my friend’s face. He tips his head slowly to the left in a clear invitation. It takes us a few seconds to break away from the group, but the moment we do he grasps my elbow lightly and leads me out of earshot of the others.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“You tell me,” Jefferson counters. “What is going on with you and Carter?”

“Nothing is going on. Well,” I reach up to push my hair out of my eyes, “actually, something has been off all night. All week, kind of. I think something is bothering him, but he won’t tell me what it is. Also, I messed up his plan for the night by asking him to come here. He apparently had dinner reservations, so I feel kind of awful about that.”

Jefferson’s eyes close and he takes a deep breath like he’s centering himself. “Okay, hold on. Were you going on a date, tonight?”

“No, we went out to dinner.”

“How did he ask you if you wanted to grab dinner? The exact words.”

“He just said that, do you want to have dinner with me or something like that. And I said yeah, because we always have dinner together when he doesn’t have a game, and he said it’s a date.”

“You’re on a date,” he declares.

“No, you don’t get it. We eat out together all the time, it’s not as though—."

“Zeke!” Jefferson holds his hands out to the side in exasperation. “He used the word date, for fuck’s sake. The man made a reservation! You cannot tell me that he usually dresses like that.” He points to the kitchen, where Carter has yet to return from. He holds a hand in front of himself and starts ticking off a list on his fingers. “He asked you out to dinner and made sure to use the word date so that you would know it was meant to be different than usual. He dressed nicely. He made a reservation. And, last but not least, he looked like you punched him just now when you said he’s just my roommate. You are on a fucking date.”

I stare at him in dismay and think through what he said, trying to find holes in his argument. There aren’t any. I feel itchy and uncomfortable all of a sudden, my back hot under the fabric of my shirt. I feel foolish.

“Oh no,” I say.

“Oh no,” Jefferson agrees. “That poor guy thought you’d agreed to go on a date with him, and then you turned around and invited the drama club along.” He waves a hand at the room.

“I didn’t mean to do that, I just thought we were…” I press my palms to my eye sockets, trying to block out the room. “I’m an idiot.”

“Well, no, but you are a bit clueless. Oh, Zeke, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you come to this stupid party.”

“I’d only have been on a date without realizing it was a date!” I rub a hand over my chest. My heart is beating rather painfully.

“Do you want it to be a date?” He drops his voice and loses the exasperated tone. “With Carter? Are you interested in him, like that?”

“Jesus, I don’t know! He’s not…have you seen him? He shouldn’t want to date someone like me, it makes no sense.”

A chorus of laughter from across the room draws our attention. I scan the room, looking for the recognizable form of Carter, but he’s nowhere to be found. When we’d first arrived, he’d been standing so close to me that I could feel the warmth of him through my clothing. Now, the cold absence is an unwelcome shock to my system. How could I have misunderstood so catastrophically?

“That’s not what I asked. I think you need to be very certain of how you feel about him before you do anything else. If you don’t like him like that, you need to tell him. Either way, you owe the guy an apology. And so do I. Good lord, what a mess.”

I nod, miserably. I’ve never been good at navigating the world of dating. Too often, the people I become interested in don’t reciprocate or they move on long before I’m at the point where physical attraction occurs. It all seems too much. I’d never have considered Carter to even be an option. Carter, who uses dating apps to pick up random men and women; Carter, who possesses the type of physical beauty that could get him anyone he wanted. Someone like him could never want someone like me.

“I better go.”

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