Page 16 of The Friend Game

“Oh.” My lips pause around the word as sudden tears fill my eyes. Desperate to not be caught crying in the middle of a school carnival I blurt out the first thing to come to mind: “I know you’re not married!”

Luke’s eyes crinkle with either amusement or horror. I can’t be sure as I’m distracted by my jaw, which is aching from opening wide enough to fit my whole foot inside my mouth.

“Um, okay,” he says slowly and thank God there’s a lull in cakewalk participants, because obviously I can’t just leave it at that!

“What I mean is,” I interrupt, “I thought that maybe you were rushing to the hospital to be with Wendy because she was your wife, so then when I accidentally,” I lower my voice so only he can hear, “felt up your arm, I was absolutely horrified and completely mortified.”

I lose my train of thought for a second as I think back over that horrible moment, but then quickly shake it away and dive back into this extremely awkward moment happening in real time. “And I’d hate for you to think that I thought that was okay. Hitting on a married man, I mean. Not that I was hitting on you,” I add quickly, wishing I’d gone with the ninja costume after all. If I had, then I’d be wearing a mask that would cover my level ten blush. Princess Leia’s white outfit only highlights the red.

“The point is,” I try to recover and also to remember what my original point was…oh right— “I’m not the type of person who would ever intentionally come between a husband and wife.” A familiar pang of regret makes my heart stutter in my chest. “So, yeah. That’s all I wanted to say.” I go to nervously play with my hair, then remember at the last minute that it’s pinned to the side of my head in two giant buns and end up patting one like an old lady who just got her hair coiffed.

Luke is studying me with an intensity that should be unnerving, but instead makes me feel likeI’m really being seen for the first time in months. Maybe even years.

“Thank you for your candor, Hannah.” He tilts his head, and I can tell he’s debating whether or not to say the thought on the tip of his tongue. I wonder if I’ve completely destroyed any possibility of him ever asking me out. “Although if I’m being equally candid then I should tell you...” he pauses, clearly still not sure if he should say what’s on his mind.

“Tell me what?” I prompt.

Luke rubs his hand over his face. “Uh, just that I like your costume.”

Immediately I know that this was not what he was going to say, but before I can press him further a group of boys comes charging up, waving their hands and hollering. “Cakewalk!” they chant like it’s a war cry.

Luke hops into action, taking over for me as cakewalk facilitator. I stand there dumbly, a kaleidoscope of emotions vying for my attention.

There’s the impracticality of liking Luke. Thus far he and I have very little in common. As we just went over, he likes history, I like art. Judging by his costume, he also likesStar Wars, whereas I would only ever choose to watchStar Warsif I were suffering from insomnia and my melatonin supplement wasn’t kicking in.

There’s also the fact that Luke is out of my league religiously. He’s a pastor! I love Jesus, and having a life partner who wants to seek God with me is of the utmost importance. Even more so after my last relationship. But let’s be real. My life probably can’t withstand the scrutiny of dating, let alone marrying, a pastor. Case in point, I am currently lying to the pastor in question (and the rest of the Grace Canyon community) about my teaching qualifications.

Not to mention, after Hugo fired me last week, I accidentally drank one too many glasses of sangria and passed out on my couch. Pastor’s wives don’t drink one too many glasses of sangria.

And they definitely don’t listen to rap music to pump them up for an interview. Even edited rap music.

I won’t even mention the last thing, the BIGGEST thing that really makes me a bad dating choice for Pastor Abbott. No way, Jose, am I even going to think about that thing I’ve shoved all the way to the back of the closet in my brain—the place where I send memories in the hopes that they’ll gather cobwebs then die.

Besides, there’s also the very real possibility that Luke isn’t even interested in dating me. It’s not like I’ve made a strong showing. Basically all I’ve done in front of him is jump, lie, and struggle toform coherent sentences. Not exactly pheromone producing stuff.

But then there’s the fact that despite all of these other things, I can’t seem to squelch my growing attraction to him.

Luke bends down to help a little girl tie her shoe, affording me quite a nice view of his navy blue clad derrière. As he stands back up he looks my way and grins, a dimple appearing on his chin.

Heat swirls in my stomach as I smile back.

He heads back over to me as the kids who just did the cakewalk take off to do other things.

“What time do you have to work this thing till?” he asks.

I glance at my watch. “I’ve got another thirty minutes.”

“Mind if I tag team it with you?” Luke says. “You’d be doing me a favor,” he adds. “If I go back to wandering around, I’m in danger of a student dragging me over to the pie throwing station.” He gestures to his vest and pants. “And I rented this costume so I really can’t get lemon meringue on it.”

“Yeah, okay,” I try to sound casual so I don’t give away the fact that my inner cheerleader just started cartwheeling. I pick up the bowl with all of the numbers in it. “You can pick the winners.”

“Great.” Luke accepts the bowl and our eyes meet again. He smiles and there’s that dimple. I smile back, a frisson of happiness tilting mykaleidoscope so that the only image I see is me with Luke over and over again.

I suppose I could always give up sangria and rap music.

Chapter 8

“A TOAST TO HANNAH and her new job.” Brooke raises her glass and Jill immediately follows suit. It’s the Sunday following the Harvest Fest and the three of us are at Brooke’s piano bar slash dance studio, Twist and Shout.

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