Page 3 of Inflame

“Do it then!” My words come out harsher than I mean them to and much louder than I intend. I tilt my head down, trying to avoid looking around the cafe to see if anyone has noticed my outburst. The smile on Nic’s lips is unmistakable. I don’t need to look at him to know it is beaming across his chiseled face. He is enjoying my frustration. Maybe he wants me to look crazy, so that he in return looks normal.

“I have it covered.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

Nic shrugs. “Life isn’t fair.”

I frown over his nonchalant words. They are riddled with a bitter aftertaste. “This is true. So, I looked up a list of the top fifty restaurants in a ten-mile radius from the strip. Would you like to pick out some of the places we plan to eat at?”

“No.”

“No?” I want to toss my hands up toward the ceiling or bang my head against the wall, but I resist. Why turn my headache into a migraine? Instead, I lean back and close my eyes to squeeze in a quick moment of meditation. I take a few deep, calming breaths. Once I’m back to my equilibrium state, I open my eyes to find the sea of blues in his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“No,” Nic reiterates.

I take out my top fifty list anyway, then dig through my bag for my twenty-four pack of multicolored pens. I remove the green, yellow, and red, setting the rest of the package off to the side of the table.

“Oh yes, I love arts and crafts,” Nic deadpans. “Did you just growl?”

“Probably,” I grumble, unable to look at him. I roll back my shoulders.You can do this, Claire.“So, I thought we could look at each name of the restaurant and the type of food served there, and then circle the favorites in green. Maybes can be marked in yellow, while reds can be—”

I stop my sentence as Nic takes the list from in front of me and the red pen. Then he strikes through one after the other, moving down the list.

“No, no, no,” he says, as he crosses each one out.

I rip the paper from his hand, tucking it under my vision board. “What is wrong with you?” I snap. “Seriously? Why are you being so difficult?”

Nic rubs his fingers against the scruff on his chin. “Where did you hide Spontaneous Claire? She seems to be way more impulsive than the Claire I’m witnessing today. Bring her back. I miss her.”

Nic has seen me run wild with my costume ideas and quest for agood time. We even spent last Christmas together at his parents’ house and participated in family games. According to both him and his brother, I’m trouble when it comes to Angie’s and my excursions. However, this task of helping with a wedding and being the maid of honor has sobered up my fun. I feel the pressure and take my job very seriously.

“I just want everything to be perfect for Angie and Graham. They deserve a nice party and celebration weekend, stress free.” It’s just the four of us going. If we jack this up, it falls on us.

“And they’ll get it. But why do we have to map out every hour of our days? Leave some room for organic moments. If you plan for us to have Italian one night but Angie really wants Chinese food, how are you going to handle the veering off the path? What if one of us needs to use the bathroom off schedule?”

I bite my bottom lip with my top teeth, hating to admit that Nic has a point. “Fine.”

He spins his ring on his finger but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Fine?”

“I’ll narrow down the list of restaurants by half, categorize them based on type of cuisine, and then group them according to location. I can even assign a number to each and plot them on the tourist map I sent away for from the travel website. I will not make any reservations and just assume that wherever we decide to eat will have an opening for us.”

“They’ll have an opening.”

I take a sip of my water and then look at Nic with confusion. “How can you just assume that?”

“Because most places will accommodate anyone that is willing to pay extra for a stellar experience,” he says casually.

I shake my head at him. “Can you sound any more entitled?”

He shrugs. “Can you stop pretending you don’t like the perks that money offers?”

“You are exasperating.”

“You are cute when you’re frustrated.”

What? What did he just say? I could not have possibly heard that correctly. I sit farther back in my seat and cross my arms over my chest. He is making literally everything I have planned burn up in smoke. I sit in silence for several moments, using my phone as a distraction. I can feel Nic’s gaze bore into me, noticing my every twitch. I would give anything for him to stop staring at me. I can feel him judging me, and I hate myself for letting a man like him get under my skin.

“I, um…” I trail off, playing with the cap on my bottle.

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