Page 29 of She Likes It, Hey Micah
She looks back up at me, her smile different from what it was before. There’s a knowingness to it, though I have no idea what it is she thinks she knows. “Sunrise,” she says. “But I love sunsets too.”
I don’t remember the last time I saw either. Maybe I should try to fix that. I move in closer, mostly because she’s talking quieter and I don’t want to miss any of her answers. “Thrift stores or boutiques?”
“Boutiques for window shopping. Thrift stores for things I’ll actually wear.”
I glance down at her dress, noticing for the first time the cut and style because I’m finally starting to feel awake. The blue polka-dotted sundress gives off Audrey Hepburn vibes, and though she could have thrifted it, it looks more like she made it herself.
I reach out, fingering the soft fabric as if I can find the answer by touching it. “Buy clothes,” I whisper, “or make them yourself?”
Her little gasp is answer enough.
I look up, a part of me wondering if it’s really a bad idea to consider more than friendship, but then someone comes up behind me and slams into Micah’s shoulder.
“Oh my gosh!” he says, grabbing her like he knocked her to the ground rather than just clipping her. “I am so sorry! Are you okay?”
Though she glances at me, Micah smiles and shakes her head. “Yeah, I’m okay. Areyouokay?”
These paths aren’t small. This guy had plenty of room to avoid us.
He grins, shifting his arms so he can surreptitiously flex. With his sweaty tank top hanging loose on his shoulders, his arms are on full display. “I am now. I’m Brennan.”
I’m going to puke. Is this really how she finds all her dates? She bumps into them at the park—literally—or in line for coffee? Not that I have plans to change the status quo with Micah, but if that’s what I’m up against, I might as well just declare myself an eternal bachelor right now. With no desire to witness this moment in action, I take a step away and focus on a clump of daffodils that have popped up beside the path. Maybe those are her favorite? They look like her vibe.
“I’m Micah. This is my friend, Fischer.”
My gaze snaps back to them. I so did not want to be a part of this, but now Brennan is sizing me up and not bothering to hide his smirk when he decides I’m not worth challenging. Do I really look that pathetic?
“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” he says. Oddly, I think he might be telling the truth. He only had eyes for Micah.
Resisting the urge to flex to match him, I jerk a nod in Brennan’s direction. “Hey. You should probably watch where you’re running so you don’t take someone out next time.”
“I’d be okay with taking you out this time,” Brennan says to Micah.
I groan. Yeah, I handed that one right to him. I’m an idiot.
Micah glances between us, her eyebrows pulled together as if she can’t understand why we aren’t the best of friends now that we’ve been introduced. “You want to take me out?”
“Dinner on Friday?”
She doesn’t even know this guy. He could be a serial killer, for all we know.
“I could do tonight,” Micah says with a smile.
Wait, is she serious?
Brennan looks like he might drop dead from shock. Apparently he wasn’t expecting her to agree, and his smile quickly shifts into one that makes him look like he just sank a three-pointer right at the buzzer when his team was down by two. He even looks at me, as if verifying that he didn’t hear her wrong. “Tonight? That would be great! Let me give you my number.”
To my surprise, Micah doesn’t reach for her phone. “How about I meet you at La Bella at seven o’clock?” she says.
Though Brennan deflates, he’s clearly smart enough to recognize the need for compromise. “That sounds great. I can’t wait.” He kisses her hand—gag me—and then runs off at a quick pace that I know he wasn’t doing a minute ago as he approached. What a joke.
“I get it now,” I mutter.
Micah looks at me. “Get what?”
Rolling my eyes, I start walking again because that’s probably the only way I’m going to be able to not grumble every word I speak to her from now until I can get back to the Ember office. We’re only halfway around the park, so I need to do everything I can to keep her from thinking I’m a total jerk. “All the flowers,” I say when she catches up to me. “You have them eating out the palm of your hand without even trying.”
“What are you talking about?” She sounds genuinely confused, though I can’t bring myself to look at her to see if her expression matches her voice.
