Page 34 of Houston, We Have a Problem
Me: I didn’t mean that how it sounded.
Me: I brought nachos.
Who wants nachos at ten thirty at night? This was a terrible idea, and I’m going to have to eat them all myself so they don’t go to waste. My stomach is not going to appreciate that in the morning, but my tongue is certainly up for the challenge. If I’m going to risk the pain for something, at least it’s Grey Bird nachos.
They might be the only good thing to come out of tonight.
Jordan and Brook.Kissing. And Tamlin Park is kind of a genius, which is way more attractive than it should be. And Darcy… Darcy seems to have a hold on my heart. I have no idea how she got her hand around it because I barely know her, and I’m not the kind of guy who just lets people in.
None of these things feel like they’re going to mix well with everything else going on in my life. Even if I do go to bed now, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to sleep.
My phone pings, and I nearly knock the box of nachos onto the floor (again) in my haste to open the text.
Darcy: Who told you the secret passcode? And here I was thinking I was being clever by making it a three-word phrase.
Me: Meet me on the porch?
I don’t trust myself to be alone in my house with her right now, and I don’t trust Jesse to not be looming like some bodyguard if we go into her place. The porch is Switzerland, and hopefully a place I can try to be her friend, like Kit suggested. Even if I’ve never had a female friend outside of my sisters before and have no idea what that’s supposed to look like… I’m just going to wing it.
Darcy: As long as there are nachos, I’m there.
Darcy steps onto the porch at the same time I do, and her eyes go immediately to the open Styrofoam container in my hands. I should be insulted that she doesn’t give me the same look that she gives the food, but I can’t blame her for nearly tearing up at the sight of jalapenos, olives, bacon, and enough cheese to block her arteries.
Without a word of greeting, she scoops out a handful of chips and shovels them into her mouth with a moan. “You weren’t kidding,” she says. Or, I think that’s what she says. She has to say it around an enormous mouthful of nacho.
Is it weird that her complete disregard for chewing with her mouth closed is actually making me like her more? Especially because Tamlin didn’t even touch the nachos at our table during the trivia game.
Darcy looks freshly showered, her damp hair pulled back in a braid and big, wire-rimmed glasses accentuating her chocolate eyes. I’m immensely jealous of her sweatshirt and pajama bottoms. I should have changed before coming out here so I could relax a little more. I may have dressed up a bit tonight,just in case she changed her mind and came to the bar, so this feels disproportionate.
I’d rather be comfy like her, which is a strange sensation for me. She doesn’t make me feel like I’m on display.
“We should probably sit down before I knock these out of your hands,” she says after she swallows.
We settle on the steps, and I keep a firm hold of the takeout container so she can use both hands to eat without the risk of losing any cheesy goodness. “I’m glad you like them,” I tell her, as if her approval of my favorite junk food is all I’ve ever wanted in a woman. In afriend. I have to remember that distinction unless she gives me any sign that she wants otherwise.
A string of cheese dangles down her chin after her next bite, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “How was your night with your family?”
How do I even put it into words? “Eventful,” I say. That’s putting it way too simply, but whatever. I’m trying not to reach over and wipe the cheese from her chin, and that’s taking most of my concentration. “My family was great, as always, and I don’t get to see my stepsister and her husband very often, so that was nice.” Then there’s Brook and Jordan, but I’m ignoring them for now. Poorly, but still. “I had to deal with my arch enemy.”
Darcy chokes, breaking into a coughing fit that gets me lamely patting her on the back until she can breathe again.
“You okay?” I ask.
Though her eyes are watering behind her glasses, she nods. “I should probably pace myself,” she says with a laugh, and she wipes her chin clean with her sleeve. “I don’t want to be one of the lucky four thousand people who choke to death every year. You have an enemy? Who?”
I don’t know why I don’t want to tell her about Tamlin. It’s not like she has any reason to be jealous—the idea of me likingTamlin is beyond laughable, even if she surprised me tonight. I guess I don’t want Darcy to think I’m capable of disliking someone when I have no good reason.
Darcy bumps her shoulder into mine. “You seriously can’t say something like that and not give me all the dirty details. Come on, Briggs.” She tenses, clearly trying to decide if she likes the feeling of camaraderie that comes from calling me by my last name. I hope she hates it and goes back to calling me Hou.
I let out a sigh, feeling some of my own tension spill out into the damp night air with my breath.Let her know you. “She’s a sports journalist who may or may not have it out for me.”
“So, she definitely has it out for you,” Darcy infers.
“No. I mean, I don’t know. She says she doesn’t, but she doesn’t really have any reason to be in Sun City right now when there aren’t any sports going on.”
“Your team is still practicing, right?”
“We never stop.” Outside of a few days around the holidays, we pretty much have practice all year.
