Page 21 of The Game She Hates

The queso at Fiesta Grill is incredible—the kind that seems designed to spoil your appetite. We always end up taking some home because they serve so much! We love using it later with chips at home, although our chips aren’t quite as perfectly salted as the ones here.

“So, why are you keeping me waiting? I’m dying to hear what happened at the cafe,” Robyn prods eagerly, taking a bite of her food.

“First of all, I need you to be my best friend and not Zane’s fan when I tell you this.”

“I’ve always been both, but I’ll try,” she says, putting on a serious face.

I can only hope Robyn sees the danger in all this and brings me back to my senses instead of fangirling about some hockey player and our supposed friendship.

“We met again at Randy’s today, although this time he didn’t make it sound like it was an accident. He apparently wanted to run into me.”

“What? He said that?” She starts screaming and fanning herself with a napkin.

“Robs, focus, we already talked about this. I’ve been burned too many times with worldly guys. I can’t let Zane even be an option in my mind.”

“True, you’ve been in an awful lot of bad relationships.” She takes another bite of her chalupa.

Not the reminder I needed right now, but at least she’s focused.

“Right. So he mentioned needing someone to talk to, and you know how I am. I’ve seen how not having anyone to talk to can lead to depression first-hand. We sat for coffee, and he opened up about a few hockey-related issues he’s dealing with.”

“Ugh, lucky you,” she interrupts, slamming her hand on the table hard enough to make the water in her glass ripple. “I would have loved to be at that table. His last game ended with him in the penalty box again,” she adds with a touch of sadness in her tone.

I purposefully didn’t tell Robyn that I had watched the game at Kate’s, mainly because I was only interested in catching glimpses of Zane whenever the camera was on him. The last thing I want is for her to insist on going to a game with me in person.

I’d be caught red-handed, and I’ve kept my attraction to him a secret from her. It’s information I’ve deemed irrelevant.

“Not where I’m going with this.” I give her a glare.

“Okay.” She beckons with her hand, urging me to spill it already.

“So I saw Duke and Kate coming to the café from where we were sitting, and I tried to make a quick escape, but Zane delayed me, asking if we could get together again. I really don’t remember what I told him because I was panicking. I can’t explain why seeing Kate with Duke still makes me feel weird. I know I no longer have a crush on Duke, but I just didn’t want to be seen with a guy. You know how rumors can be. Anyway, I couldn’t exit in time, and we got to the door at the same time. Kate was happy to see me, and when she invited me to her engagement party on Sunday, I lied about having plans.”

“Why did you lie? You hate lies.” Robs’ eyes widen with concern.

“I know God does too. I’m not proud of it. But that’s not all.” I skip the part where Kate belittled me about never having plans. Robyn is intense and can’t stand anyone being mean to me; that would be the thread that breaks the camel’s back in her already-distant relationship with Kate.

“Go on.”

“So when I lied, she obviously didn’t believe me. It’s no secret I don’t have much of a life outside work, church, and, well, you. Then Zane came up behind me and blurted out that we had plans together on Sunday.”

“Wait, he was listening to your conversation?”

“You know Kate’s voice. She doesn’t need a mic to be heard. But I had no idea he was eavesdropping too.”

“How did I miss this epic movie?” She runs her hand across her face.

“It was embarrassing at best,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“But he saved you, didn’t he?”

“He did, but now he wants us to follow through with the Sunday plans.”

She smirks. “It’d be two lies if you didn’t.”

“Ugh, he said the same exact thing. But do you really think I should go out with Zane? I mean, me, Pearl Davis, the girl you’ve labeled as being boy crazy,” I say pointing both index fingers to myself.

“It doesn’t have to look like a date,” she says, and I furrow my brows, not understanding her point. “I won’t say no to tagging along if you ask nicely.” She shrugs.

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