Page 43 of Wish You Would

“Listen, Parker.” She put her menu down, fingertips hovering over the glossy surface. The coolness in her tone, the neutrality on her face, said everything she hadn’t voiced yet.

I forged ahead as if I didn’t know where this was going. “We’re having dinner tomorrow. I don’t want to screw it up.”

Her dark eyes assessed me, from my tense posture to my pleading eyes, lingering on the single curl that had fallen over my shoulder. Shaking her head, she sat back in her seat. “You’re not going to screw it up.” There was a confidence in her tone that I did not feel within myself. “I saw you two talking. She’s into you. You got this.”

Then why did I feel like I was going to throw up every time I thought about meeting Halle at Casa de Queso tomorrow night? Why did the thought of sitting across from her, sharing anecdotes and tacos with her, fill me with anxiety?

Why did thinking about whatever would happen next send panic sling-shotting through my veins?

I wrung my hands together and willed my pulse to slow. Gigi reclaimed her menu, studying it so casually, as if my entire romantic future wasn’t hanging in the balance. As if I didn’t stand on the precipice of complete and total humiliation. As if…as if she didn’t care.

That last thought was an iron fist to the stomach. Sinking back, I nodded, resignation dropping my shoulders. “Okay.”

Gigi looked up from her menu and stared at me for a long, long moment. Her dark eyes were unreadable, her face impassive. The diner’s fluorescent light caught the glimmers of orange in her hair, the specks of gold in her eyes.

Why are you doing this? a voice in the back of my mind asked. Why do you keep coming back to her?

The answer was a whisper in my bones, a skittering of my pulse. The answer was something I couldn’t yet define and wasn’t sure I wanted to.

Even still, it kept me seeking her out, even as everything I’d wanted for the last few months was right at my fingertips.

“What can I get for you two tonight?”

I started with a gasp, straightening in my seat.

“Sorry,” our waiter said, a kind smile crinkling his eyes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Gigi cover her smirk with the menu. “No, no. It’s okay. I just…scare easy.” Grabbing for my menu, I thrust it in front of my face, cheeks burning.

“I think we need a minute,” Gigi said to the waiter as I tried to make sense of the dancing letters before me. “Thank you.”

As soon as the waiter was gone, three gleaming black fingernails curved over the top of my menu, yanking it from my hands to reveal an unsmiling Gigi.

“All right,” she said in an all-business tone I’d never heard before. “You win.” She put both our menus on the table between us in a neat stack. “One practice date.”

My heart leapt, wringing a gasp from me. “Oh, thank you! I—”

She held up a finger. I pressed my lips together and waited for her to continue. “But,” she said, “this is it. No more lessons after this. Not even a sliver of romantic advice. After tonight, you’re on your own, kid.”

There was probably a logical reason for my reaction. Probably, I could explain away the hot disappointment that clashed with the bright excitement to create a cyclone of contradiction inside me. But instead of spending these precious seconds self-analyzing, I tucked it all away for later and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

I nodded again, throat tight. My eyes met hers, and something flashed in the warm brown depths that seemed to echo my own unrecognizable feelings. She looked me over slowly, as if cataloging my every feature, and suddenly I was back there. In my kitchen last week. I could feel it—her nose brushing mine, her lips so close her breath kissed my skin.

My breath faltered. My pulse pounded. My—

“You two about ready to order?”

“Shoot,” I hissed, jumping so hard my teeth clattered.

Across from me, Gigi snorted. I couldn’t even muster a glare.

“We’ll both have the pancake breakfast,” she told the waiter, handing the menus to him. “And can I get an apple juice, please?”

“You got it.” He smiled an apology before walking away.

“Why are you so jumpy tonight?” Gigi asked once he was out of earshot. She spun to rest her back against the wall, legs stretched out before her. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and sighed. “This is a diner, not a haunted house.”

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