Page 25 of Bound

Maybe he’s not coming.

Maybe heis.

Maybe—

I turn over my cell and glance at the screen.

Not a message from the dating app Smitty convinced me to sign up for.

But a message from Smitty himself.

You got this, kid! Remember, practice means perfect.

God, he’s such a good guy. And a good friend. I smile and start to turn my cell over, intending to go back to my mule and watching the front door closely while trying to pretend I’m not doing exactly that when it buzzes again.

Plus, if you fuck it up, we’ll be in a new city tomorrow, so you never have to see the asshole who doesn’t realize he’s standing in the presence of perfection again.

That’s both…

Sweet and a little rude.

Kind of like Smitty himself.

Shaking my head, my mouth kicking up further, I type out a response and hit the arrow to send it off.

Then it’s back to waiting and sipping my mule and thinking about Smitty’s pep talks and advice and?—

Too antsy to sit still any longer, I give in and unlock my phone’s screen, navigating to the notes app and scan through the shared file that Smitty and Kailey put together for my hopeless-at-small-talk self.

1. Do not go off on a tangent about apostrophes and unnecessary letters.

“Yeah,” I mutter. “I definitely should have kept that tidbit to myself.”

I almost don’t blame the guy for running off.

Sighing, I look to the next item on the list.

2. Don’t make yourself small just because you want some asshole to like you.You’re perfectly special as you are.

Grimacing at Kailey’s obvious addition to Smitty’s tip, I move on down.

3. Small talk is challenging, but there’s always movies and hockey and funny TikToks to talk about. Don’t be afraid to use these:

And as my eyes look through the list of conversational topics and links to videos that Kailey provided below that advice—a tiny small-talk-defeating handbook of sorts—my belly warms. I may not be close to finding a partner, a happy-ending, a man who loves me for me and with all of my strange quirks, but at least I have Gran and Junie, and Smitty and Kailey, and the rest of the guys.

Jackson’s face flashes across my brain, but I push it down.

I’m here for a date, here to have a good night, and I’m not going to worry about anyone else.

Not the man who hates me—or maybe doesn’t.

Not—

I see a flash of movement in the mirrors behind the bar and watch as the door to the front of the restaurant opens, as a man comes through. Not the one tap-dancing through my mind, not the one who…I don’t know, hates me, tolerates me, knows my favorite type of cocktail, touches me gently and says I’m a good person…

But the one from the dating app that Smitty convinced me to sign up for.

He’s tall, taller than I expected and slender. Not the built solidness of Smitty, nor the muscled leanness of Jackson. But he’s in good shape—I can tell that much even from this distance. It’s the way he fills out the button down shirt and jeans, the confident stride as he approaches the hostess stand, as I watch him in the mirror have a short conversation before she turns to point in my direction.

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