Page 8 of Waiting For Fate

Thank God.

“Pizzas are here!” she announces, placing the boxes on the opposite end of the island.

“Fucking finally,” Tucker sighs, walking her way.

“Little ears.” Tank covers Poe’s ears while he scolds Tucker. As if Poe could actually repeat anything he hears at this age.

I snatch my phone off the counter, hurry to the spare bathroom and lock the door behind me before resting my head on the door and letting out a shaky breath.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself, fighting back the sadness I feel washing over me. The last time I saw Sawyer—on good terms—was my senior year of high school. He was one of my best friends, and regardless of the secret crush I harbored for him all throughout high school, I never let it get in the way of our friendship. I knew liking your best friend’s older brother was a big fat to-don’t, but once he and I actually formed a friendship of our own, I was scared of losing more than just my friendship with Taylor—I was scared of losing him as well.

Jokes on me though because in the end, I lost him anyway.

Man, I wish Tucker had built a secret escape door in this bathroom. Because I would really love to disappear right now.

I jump at the sudden buzzing of my phone in my hand but when I look down and see Jackson’s name flash across the screen, I can’t help but smile and welcome the distraction.

“Hello?” I bring the phone up to my ear, tucking my other hand in the crook of my elbow.

“Hey there. Is this a good time?” You have no idea.

“It’s a great time, what’s up?” I find myself fidgeting with the decorative towels hanging on the rack to give myself something to do in the small space since I can’t pace like I normally do while on the phone.

“So listen, my sister just told me about a margarita tasting event at Casa Taco next Thursday, and it made me think of you.” He’s silent for a moment as I chew on my bottom lip.

Aww. He thought of me.

“If it’s not somewhere you think would be good for our first date… Second date? Second first date? Then I will plan something else. Otherwise. How about I pick you up at seven?” I hesitate for a moment before looking up in the mirror, remembering the encouraging words— somewhat depressing, but encouraging nonetheless—that my friends gave me about giving this another shot. I have to put myself out there and move on from the fantasy that has lived, unwelcomed, in my mind for so long that it’s kept me from giving anyone a real chance.

“I love Casa Taco. That sounds like a perfect second first date.”

“Okay then. I’ll pick you up at seven next Thursday.” I can almost hear his smile through the phone.

“I can’t wait. Bye!” I hang up the phone and take a cleansing breath, smiling as I lock my phone and turn to unlock the door. Maybe things are looking up afterall. As soon as the door swings open, I suck in a startled breath.

“Found you, Dove.” Sawyer is leaning against the door frame, completely blocking the exit with his burly frame.

There’s a reason we call him Moose. The man is massive.

Six-foot-four with muscles that look hand carved… Not that I care.

“Jesus Christ, Sawyer. You almost gave me a heart attack.” My hand flies to my chest as I try to catch my breath. “You know they have like two other bathrooms, right?”

“But you were in this one. And I was looking for you.” He smirks and I cross my arms over my chest, hating the way my stomach still flips at the sight of him.

“Why?” I clip, making it clear I’m not interested in talking to him.

“Look, I know you’re mad at me, but I still wanted to give you this.” He pulls a ticket from his back pocket. “My first game is next Thursday, and I want you there.” I take the ticket and glance down at it then back up at him.

“Sorry, I have plans that night.” He scowls at me, and his eyes drop to the ticket.

“With who? Everyone else said they were coming.” He nods toward the area of the house where literally all of my friends are.

“Why does it matter?” His jaw flexes again, making it harder to pull my eyes away from his strikingly handsome features.

“Is it a date?” His eyes narrow on me and I rear back, shocked by the insinuation. The tone of his voice takes me by surprise because I would almost think he sounded jealous if I didn’t know any better. But I know better, and there’s no chance in hell that’s what I’m hearing.

“Welcome back, Sawyer. Good luck at your game.” I slide the ticket in his shirt pocket, tapping it twice before I push past him, only stopping when he catches my arm in his hand.

---