Page 20 of The Friend Game

Luke lets out a surprised laugh. “Hannah Garza,” he says with a shake of his head, “you have a way of saying the most random and yet completely on point things.”

I blush. “Wait, so is that a good thing or…”

Luke’s eyes meet mine. “Definitely a good thing.”

Our gazes hold and my stomach flutters. The mood in the bar shifts as Barry starts playing Elvis Presley’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love.” A woman two tables over shrieks, “I love you too, Ronnie, baby!” at the man on stage serenading her. “You’re going to get so many smooches tonight!”

Luke and I grin at each other, both fighting the sudden urge to laugh.

“See,” Luke indicates the man on stage with a slight jerk of his head, “Ronnie, or Ronnie baby as some have been known to call him, has a pretty good voice yet we’re still laughing at him.”

“That’s just because of his poor song choice,” I reply without thinking.

“You don’t like Elvis Presley?” Luke asks.

“I like Elvis Presley just fine,” I amend quickly, annoyed with myself for speaking long-held private thoughts. “It’s just…” I trail off, unsure if I’m ready to make my inner soapbox public.

“Just what?” he prompts.

“You really want to know?”

Luke nods.

“Fine.” I draw in a breath, then launch into my tirade. “He’s trying to be romantic, but this song is so overdone that we can’t take him seriously. If someone wants to profess their love to someone in song, I think they really ought to personalize it a bit more. Don’t just take any generic love song. Same goes for Valentine’s Day. Are chocolates and flowers really what your significant other wants? Or might she prefer a book or a gift card? And don’t get me started on candles. Not every woman in America finds candles romantic. Some see them as the fire hazard they are—” I break off, breathing a little hard. A flush creeps up my neck. That got outof hand quickly. “Sorry, I think I went off on a bit of a tangent.”

“No, no.” Luke shakes his head. “Pretty sure that was valuable insight into the female psyche. I’m committing it all to memory. Chocolate and flowers are not universally desired by women, candles are a no for some,” he ticks my points off on his fingers, “and never serenade a woman.”

“Hold on,” I laugh, because he’s being so sweet about my crazy. “I’m not saying that serenading someone isn’t sweet,” I inform him. “Just that song choice is important.”

“Oh really?” He sits back in his chair and crosses his forearms over his chest. “So give me an example. What would’ve been a better song choice for our friend Ronnie?”

“Well, I don’t know Ronnie, so that’s hard to say, but in my mind relationships aren’t just a series of gushy professions of love. There’s a lot of work that goes into maintaining a loving relationship. So maybe he should’ve picked a song that reflects that she’s worth all of that work because he loves her that much. Not one that just waxes poetic.”

Luke is staring at me with an odd expression, and I’m suddenly uncomfortable. Maybe all of this was too deep for the fourth conversation we’ve ever had.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “That probably sounded stupid.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I think once again you’ve hit the nail on the head.”

I’m robbed of my chance of responding by the return of Sydney and my sisters.

“What’s everyone drinking?” Sydney says chipperly. “First round’s on me, Pastor Abbott, as a thank you for driving me.”

Luke smiles. “Thanks, but actually,” he checks his watch, “I’m already late for a meeting at the church, so I can’t stay, but it was nice to meet you, Brooke and Sydney.” He turns to Jill. “Always good to see you, Jill.” Finally he looks to me. “Hannah,” he pauses after my name, seeming to debate what to say.Maybe he’s going to ask for my number, the errant thought flits into my brain. Which is stupid, because obviously after the conversation we just had he’s more likely to tell me not to worry, he willneverserenade me. Or profess his love for me in any capacity.

“Good luck tomorrow,” Luke finally says. “The Grace Canyon students are lucky to be getting you as their new art teacher.”

See, not exactly a profession of love, but then again he did stay to talk to me even though it made him late for a meeting.

That has to mean something.

Chapter 9

THE MORNING BELL at Grace Canyon rings at 8:15. Lexie Stone is at my desk at 8:17, her daughter Amelia, or Mia as they call her, standing by her side.

“Happy first day, Miss Garza,” Lexie trills, passing me an enormous fruit basket. “We got you a little something to welcome you to Grace Canyon.”

“Wow, thank you.” I survey the assortment of fruit contained inside the cellophane wrapping with awe. There are star-shaped kiwi pieces and flowers made out of melon balls and pineapple rings. Ooh there are some chocolate-covered strawberries in there too! Jill is going to flip! My eyes land on a card nestled near the top, the familiar logo for Blick Art Material gleams up at me. “Is that a—”

---