Page 35 of Strike Zone

“Fred,” my dad says. “You remember my daughter, Wren.” He gestures toward me.

“Of course. It’s been a few years.”

“Yes. I believe it was our graduation party.” Our parents had thrown us a joint party at the country club. It was as pretentious as it sounds. “Nice to see you again, sir.”

“Please, call me Fred,” he says, with a gentle smile. I nod. “Daniel,” he urges his son forward with a small push on his back.

“Wren.” Daniel takes a step toward me and cradles both of my hands in his. “You look beautiful,” he says, leaning down to kiss my cheek. His assertiveness surprises me. I recall him being quite shy and maybe even a little awkward.

“Thank you. You too.” Heat rushes to my cheeks. He does look handsome. He looks exactly like the trust fund, country club guy I typically hook-up with.

Daniel pulls out a velvet blue chair for me. Then takes his seat beside me. With everyone situated at the table and being the center of attention, my heart begins to race.

Linen napkin. I place it on my lap.

Dinner fork. Salad fork. Soup spoon. Knife. I straighten them and space them evenly on either side.

Water glass. Wine glass. I straighten them as well.

The process calms me enough to take a look around the dining room. It’s decorated with rich wood tones and moody blues. The lighting is low creating an intimate setting.

The waiter comes and takes our food and drink order, breaking up a little bit of the tension and unease I’m feeling.

“How is school going, Wren?” Mr. Abbott—Fred—asks.

“Great.” I smile. Is this the creepy smile Wyatt is talking about? I try a different one, the one that I’ve practiced and perfected. The one that hides everything.

“What about you, Daniel? Are you looking forward to graduating?” my dad asks, rescuing me. He knows I won’t want to elaborate or talk about myself for too long.

“More than ever,” he says, with his eyes on me. I reach for my water with shaky hands. His attention is unexpected. I was under the impression he was agreeing to see me, to marry me, because it would be good for business.

My phone chimes in my purse. For once I’m relieved by that annoying noise. It’s a welcome interruption.

“I’m sorry. I forgot to turn off the notifications before we sat down,” I say when my phone chimes again. I already know it’s Wyatt. He’s aware I’m having dinner with Daniel. Why is he texting me right now?

WYATT

How’s it going?

Did he like your dress?

I fight the urge to roll my eyes and instead send a quick response.

ME

It’s fine. He didn’t say.

Not about the dress anyways.

He said I looked beautiful.

“Is everything okay?” Daniel asks.

“Yes. It’s a friend.”

“Maybe you should tell her you’re busy,” Fred says. His words are sharp—the opposite of his friendly demeanor he was exuding earlier.

“He knows I’m here. He’s checking on me because he’s worried.” I’m not sure why I said that. Wyatt isn’t really concerned. He’s texting because he likes to get under my skin and annoy me.

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