Page 29 of Lie for a Lie

“Good.”

It is all he says with a soft smile before kissing my forehead softly and drifting back to sleep.

Chapter 15

Paige

Seth took over three weeks from our run-in at the coffee shop to finally ask me out on a proper date. I try not to be annoyed, considering we have been flirting heavily through text since he showed up at the condo. Things have seemed better between us, but I haven’t seen him since he left after Bre got home Sunday morning.

The plan is to grab a few drinks from a small bar before heading to the nearby drive-in. They were having an IT marathon, and the fall girl in me is dressed for the occasion. I am comfortable but cute in my favorite Derry Maine Hoodie and cut-off shorts. It is late May, and it still cools down at night.

I leave my hair down with a two-day curl in it before brushing more dry shampoo through it than I should before throwing on some simple makeup. Tonight is all about comfort, so I slip on my favorite old pair of black vans. I feel great and am busy packing my small backpack full of all my random girl necessities when my phone chimes with two new messages—the first from Seth.

Seth: Hey! Can you meet me at the bar? I got tied up with some work.

I smile and quickly reply before checking my other message. It is from Graham, and I can feel the smallest butterflies flutter in my stomach. I hesitate because this is the first time he has text me.

Fighting my smile, I open the message to a picture of Graham and Chris both in scrubs with beaming smiles. They are holding some sort of paper of recognition, and I love the image before saving it to Graham’s contact photo.

I zoom in on both guys and realize this is the promotion ceremony he discussed at the steak house. Graham somehow looks even sexier in a scrub cap. Chris is a handsome idiot, like always.

I pocket my phone, grabbing my favorite Stephen King blanket and the small backpack. When I make it to the parking lot, I smile and am excited for tonight as I spot Bre and Chris heading toward our apartment. Bre just rolls her eyes at my sweater. She hates the movie IT and has an irrational fear of clowns. I often like to play the movie on repeat during the fall.

“Where are you off to?” Chris asks with a smile.

“Date night,” I say with a wink before digging out my phone to show him the picture Graham sent me.

“Look what I got today.”

I stop to let them look over my phone, and Bre smacks Chris on the shoulder.

“Why didn’t I get this picture? Paige, send it to me. It’s going on the fridge,” Bre says, annoyed, before Chris hands me back my phone. I can’t help but laugh as I forward her the image before heading toward my car, not wanting to be late. It takes about twenty minutes for me to get to the bar and another ten to find somewhere to park. The bar is crowded, and hockey is on every screen. I try not to pay attention as I scan the crowd for the blond-haired dream boat I am meeting. I call him twice, but there is no answer before texting.

Me: I’m here at the bar. Where are you?

I order a round of drinks so we won’t be late for the movie in an hour, but with how crowded this bar was, I know it will take a while. It’s nearly ten minutes before I get the beers and attempt to call him again.

I shoot off another text and try to control the minor panic settling in my chest. After five of the longest minutes of my life, I finally get a response, which irritates me more.

Me: Everything okay?

Seth: Lost track of time. On my way!

I let out a slow, controlled breath and don’t bother responding to the message. I need to calm down before I leave and never talk to this guy again. I take a sip of my water and head to my contact list. Chris answers two rings later.

“Hello?” Chris answers in a confused tone.

“Your friend sucks. Why does your friend suck?” I ask, letting my frustration show more than I want to.

Silence is followed by what sounds like Bre in the background.

“What happened?” he asks with a concerned tone.

I smile to myself. For whatever reason, he seems to care about my feelings.

“Seth is almost thirty minutes late for our date. He ignores my calls and barely lets me know he is on his way. If he is at your place, that’s another thirty minutes easy. This will make us late for the movies, and I hate being late for the movies,” I whine, exhausted.

I can feel the lump of emotion building in my throat, and I take another long sip of my beer, trying to soothe the discomfort.

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