Page 20 of One Timer With A Wingman

“Damn, that’s not easy,” I say.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is. I got used to being on my own. I like it now,” she says. “I have my friends, gymnastics, and work. It’s all I need,” she says with a smile that doesn’t touch her eyes.

I nod, bouncing my head.

“Yeah, I get that. I’m all about hockey, school, and friends. See, we have more in common than you probably thought.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “We better hurry or we’re missing that sunrise.”

“Should we grab coffee before heading out?” I ask as we pass the coffee shop.

“Definitely,” she says, and she seems less guarded.

“How do you take your coffee?” I offer, needing space from her because I don’t know what is happening.

“One sugar and one cream, please.”

I walk off to get the coffees.

I return. “Here you go,” my voice cracks.

“Thanks.” She takes the paper cup.

We head out to the back of the hotel and walk past the pool to the beach. It’s still dark outside so we haven’t missed anything, which is a relief. Why is it so important for me to help her check off items from her bucket list? Soon I’ll be offering to take her to Bora Bora.

I blink to clear my mind as we reach the sand. “Should we sit close to the water?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Can you hold my coffee for a second? I just want to lay down the sheet.”

I pass her my cup and get to work settling my sheet on the sand.

“All good,” I tell her. I take a seat on the sheet. She sits beside me.

“Thanks for waking me up, Aaron. This was thoughtful. I feel the need to apologize. I’ve been a bitch because I thought. . .”

Oh oh.

“You thought what?” I swallow hard.

“That you were some brainless jock, who just wanted to get in my pants.” She smiles and even with the moonlight hitting the water I can see that she’s blushing.

“Half that sentence is true. I’m still thinking of the first item on your bucket list,” I confess. I’ve never been shy to say what I want and, at this point, it’s clear I want her in my bed.

“You just don’t hold back.” She giggles nervously.

“Don’t worry, Briar, it’s something my friends appreciate from me. Brutal honesty,” I wink. “Now we have about five minutes.”

She sips her coffee and looks out to the ocean. I take in the fresh ocean air. Having this quiet time with her is nice. I don’t feel compelled to carry on conversation. We’re just chilling and enjoying the moment. Having Mom get sick has made me realize how fleeting life can be. Dad is taking Mom to fill her own bucket list, but I feel like maybe I need to make one too. Because we never know what tomorrow will hold. Mom is slowly deteriorating, even though we are getting her top-notch medical treatment. We can slow down the illness but not stop it. I take a deep breath and focus on the flow of waves brushing against the sand. There is something so promising about watching the sun rise. For the first time in a while, it doesn’t feel like everything in my life feels cryptic and filled with doom. As we watch the rise of a new day, a feeling of peace coats my insides. It’s something I haven’t felt since Mom was diagnosed. I like that Briar is also absorbed in the moment. She’s quiet, looking out to the soft waves rolling in. When the sun makes an appearance, I turn to look at her. A sweet smile spreads her plump lips. The silence feels like a warm blanket between us. I turn back to the view, watching the sun slowly rising above the water. The sky turns different hues of peach, yellow, and purple. It’s something I will never forget. When it’s over, and the sun has risen above the water, Briar looks at me and says, “Thanks for waking me up.”

“Anytime,” I reply. “Truth is, I never took the time to watch the sunrise. It was worth waking up at the ass crack of dawn.”

She laughs. “It definitely was.”

We fall silent again and about ten minutes later Briar asks, “Would you like to grab breakfast?”

The fact that she’s initiating something between us sparks hope inside me. That can’t be right though.

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