Page 60 of The Goal

Yeah. I like him too.

TUCKER

We’reall feeling stupid and giddy when we troop out of the bar with our wrapped-up canvases tucked under our arms. Well, except for Fitzy—our instructor made him leave his masterpiece behind so she could show it to future classes.

Outside, the air is frigid, but that doesn’t stop Hiram from saying, “I saw an ice-cream parlor down the road. Let’s check if it’s still open.”

And yup, our double date has turned into a triple date and suddenlywe’re going out for ice cream with an old war vet and his sweet-as-molasses wife.

I hold Sabrina’s hand as we amble down the sidewalk. I honestly didn’t expect to have this much fun tonight. I mean, a painting class? There are a million—dirtier—things I would’ve rather done, but this wasn’t bad at all. Even Fitzy has laughed more times tonight than I’ve ever heard in the past.

The ice-cream place is just closing when we arrive, but the kid who’s about to lock the door takes pity on us and opens the cash register. Thanking him profusely, we order waffle cones and then head back to the bar parking lot.

Now that they’re no longer bickering, Hiram and Doris regale us with stories about their forty-six years together. They’ve lived through some pretty harrowing times, but I’m more interested in the happy memories they describe.

Forty-six years. It’s fucking surreal to think of being with someone for that long. Am I totally nuts for wanting that?

Sabrina seems equally mesmerized by their tales, and when the elderly couple climbs into their little car and drives off, she seems genuinely disappointed to see them go.

“We’re going to finish our ice cream in my car,” Carin announces, and there’s nothing stealthy about the way she says it. With a mischievous smile, she tugs on Fitzy’s hand and drags him toward the blue hatchback parked across the lot.

He glances over his shoulder and grins at me.

“They’re totally going to hook up,” Sabrina says.

“Yup.”

I drag her toward my own vehicle. Once we’re settled in the front seat, I flick the ignition and blast the heat. Ice cream was probably a bad idea—Sabrina is visibly shivering as we wait for the truck to warm up.

“So,” I say.

“So.”

“That was entertaining.”

“Which part? When the Red Sox guy painted ants for pubes? Or when Hiram and Doris described what it was like to live through the boob job craze in the eighties?”

“Holy fuck. When she said she’d considered getting her ‘bosom done’?”

“Oh my God. Idied!” Sabrina is in stitches beside me, the sound of her high-pitched giggles bringing a rush of warmth to my chest.

Damn. I really like this girl. She’s…incredible. She’s not the ice queen Dean insists that she is, not in the slightest. She’s smart and funny and caring and—

And I might be falling for her.

My laughter dies off.

“What’s wrong?” Sabrina asks immediately.

“Nothing,” I lie. It’s either that or tell her what I’m thinking about, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t want to hear it.

I don’t even want to imagine what her response would be if I admitted that I’m falling for her. We’ve fucked twice and gone ononedate. It’s way too early to bring the L-word into the conversation.

“You sure?” She sounds concerned. “You got a really deep crease right…here.” She smooths two fingers over my forehead.

“Nah, I’m good.” I shift in my seat and ease closer to her. “I’m having a great time.”

“Me too.” Her bottom lip pokes out a bit. “I wish…”

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