Page 56 of The Longshot

It’s torture in the best way imaginable, quite like the words that escape his mouth, “I mean, look at you.” He pulls his right hand out from his pocket and extends it forward for me to grasp. “How could I not be?”

The roles reverse, and now I’m the one blushing, only it’s so much more noticeable on my part, given that he’s merely inches away from my face, and I can’t find the strength to hide behind my palm.

A part of me wants him to see it. A part of me wants him to see me.

“What?” It’s apparent that Gary has picked up on the rosiness that’s found its way to mask along my cheeks. “Are you nervous, Chelsie?”

I chew down on the inside of my cheek thoughtfully—I hate when people use my words against me, almost as much as I hate clichès, but right now, I can’t help it. I want to play into this clichè more than anything. It’s pathetic, sappy, but more than anything, addictive.

“‘I mean, look at you’,” I repeat back to him, intertwining my hand within his. “How could I not be?”

Tonight has been so many things, but most of all, it’s been unexpected.

Little did I imagine that tonight’s get-to-know-me session would mean that Gary Wilkinson would book a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in the town. For the past two hours, rather than getting to know one another, all we’ve done is manage to study each other’s laugh. Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite as comical.

If there’s one title that Gary is walking away from this dinner with, it’s the fact that he possesses the infinite ability to put a smile on my face, no matter what. Even now, as we step out of the restaurant, I can’t help throwing my head back in a playful fit of disbelief.

“Gary!” I scold him. “I can’t believe you did that!” I remark, considering he’s just given me the low-down on the real reason behind his panic-stricken visit to the bakery—which included his little white lie about his quote-on-quote sister, Delaney, “dropping the cake”.

“Ah, c'mon, Chelsie.” He tries to play it cool. “I had to convince you to make the cake somehow, didn’t I?”

I roll my eyes. “I just can’t believe you used poor Delaney to your advantage.” I frown. “I mean, I had a hunch, but I genuinely felt sorry for her for a split second.”

A devious smirk threatens to break free from behind his lips, one that I nudge out of him.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Don’t resort to violence,” he retorts. “My plan worked, did it not? You made the cake. She loved it. And I was in the clear. It was a win-win for everyone.”

I playfully clench my jaw. “You know what I’ve come to learn about you, Gary?” I speak, confidently folding my arms across my chest as I halt on the pavement in front of his car.

“What?” He mimics my actions.

“That you’re a big liar.”

With his jaw slacked open, Gary places a hand on his chest, visually offended. “‘A big liar?’” he repeats, voice full of theatrical pain. “Chelsie Windsor, that might’ve just been the rudest thing that you’ve ever said to me!”

I playfully tighten my lips, giggling as he pouts like a hurt puppy dog and storms his way over to the car.

I beat him there.

“Fine. Fine.” I cave at the sight of his bottom lip—a cynical and tempting sight. “I take it back. You’re not a big liar. That wasn’t accurate. What I meant to say is…” I allow for a gap in conversation before I speak back up. “That you’re a gigantic liar!”

“Hey!” he cries as I attempt to reach towards the car door handle in a fit of laughter, but I’m not quick enough as he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in close.

“Chelsie!” He tickles my sides. “I take back what I said earlier. That was the rudest thing you’ve ever said to me. How could you say that? Say sorry!”

I playfully fight against his touch, though I don’t want it to end. “Never,” the tears of laughter threaten to pool from my eyes. “Never ever.”

Eventually, I’m able to escape from his grasp. Once I do, I swing open the car door and fall into the passenger seat, sticking my tongue out at him as he playfully scrunches his nose and plants himself into the driver's side.

“I’m taking you home,” I hear him say as he buckles up his seat belt and crosses his arms in a huff.

“Aw, how come?” I can’t help but play along with his facade as I wipe away the tears that have dampened my cheeks.

“Because…” He ignites the ignition to the car. “You’re being mean to me, and I can’t endure this bullying any longer.”

I playfully roll my eyes. I know deep down he likes this, and if I’m being honest, I do too. Being by Gary’s side forces me to see the world through his lens. I’m positive he looks at life as if it's a stage, and he’s the main character. I have to value that about him—his undeniable confidence, his ability to light up a room, but most of all, the way that through him, I can see a beckoning of new beginnings.

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