Page 35 of Fair Catch

“You’ll be fine. Just be yourself,” I tell him in the best attempt at reassurance I can muster, when in reality, I have no fucking clue if that’s true.

Seems like a good enough suggestion, though.

There’s a brief pause before he says, “You don’t even like my normal self. Why the hell would you give me that advice?”

He’d be surprised to know that his slightly neurotic, himbo ass has started to grow on me. A miniscule amount, but it’s growth regardless, and that’s a lot coming from me.

“That’s only sometimes true,” I argue, knowing it’s still more often than not. “But the good thing is, I’m not the one you’re trying to impress here. So just relax.”

Kason doesn’t relax, though. In fact, if I was hoping to assuage his nerves, I think I failed. Miserably, because I don’t think I made a dent in them. If anything, he lookslessrelaxed now than he did two minutes ago before I said anything.

God, where the hell is this guy?

“Is he here yet?” I ask, checking my watch to see it’s almost eight-thirty. “In the car, you’d said he was meeting you at eight?”

“He is.” Kason checks his phone again. “He hasn’t texted back since I agreed to coming, though.”

An uneasy feeling hits me.

In my experience, if someone is gonna be over half an hour late for a date, one of two things happen. The first is that they textbeforethat much time to say they’re running behind, or maybe to reschedule entirely.

The second, and likely the case here, is being stood up.

Shit.

Knowing he’s gonna need some alcohol to soothe this kind of blow to the ego, I meet his anxious gaze and I nod toward the back door. “I’m gonna get you a beer so you can stop looking like a creep just standing in the corner watching all these people dry-humping each other like horny teenagers.”

“A lot of themarehorny teenagers.”

“I rest my case,” I mutter, painting on a smile. “I’ll be right back. Keep an eye out for your guy.”

I’m quick to leave him, heading toward the keg set up in an area off to the side of the kitchen. Grabbing a Solo cup from the stack, I fill it to the brim with the liquid, doing my best not to give him too much foam.

A sneaky glance back to where I left my roommate reveals him texting on his phone, a deep crease in his forehead.

Yeah, this isn’t gonna end well.

Steeling myself to deliver the news, I make my way back to him, beer in hand. Worst comes to worst, I could always ply him with alcohol until he blacks out. After all, if he’s so drunk to not remember being stood up, does that mean it actually happened?

Oh, the philosophical musings of a college student.

A tight smile on my lips, I hold out the drink between his phone and his face, blocking his view of the screen.

“Here you go. Bottoms up,” I tell him, waiting for him to grab the cup.

He does a second later, pocketing his phone and taking a long,longdrink that could probably be considered more of a chug.

“Easy there, tiger. You’re gonna get acid reflux by drinking that shitty beer too fast,” I tell him, nose wrinkling up. “And no one likes the beer burps, especially when they’re making out.”

“Funny,” Kason mutters before taking another drink.

It’s clear without asking, he’s coming to the same conclusion I have, and he’s licking the wounds with the drink I’ve provided.

Still, I choose to play dumb, cocking my head and nodding toward him.“What’s that sour look for?”

Kason shakes his head. “I don’t think he’s coming.”

There’s one of two ways I could play this: I could lean into my MO and be a complete dick about it…or I could try to make him feel better about the dickweed who decided Kason wasn’t worth the time.

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