Page 50 of The Hookup Situation
“I was devastated when you retired,” the girl says.
“I was too.” He chuckles, like this is a normal reaction. “I’ll have a whiskey, neat. And my girlfriend wants …”
“A margarita on the rocks, salt, with an extra shot of tequila on the side,” I say, needing to calm down. “And an order of chips and salsa.”
She walks away, leaving us alone.
“Does that happen a lot?” I ask him.
His brown eyes meet mine. “Not as much anymore. Most people have forgotten I ever played and know me from other things.”
“Does it bother you?” I ask.
“Not really. Being forgotten comes with retiring, which is inevitable for every player. Part of the game is knowing when to quit. That’s why I tried hard to break records—to ensure I’m remembered as one of the best in the league,” he answers, then pauses, realizing I’m devouring every word. I could listen to him talk for the rest of the night. “You’re so pretty.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I whisper.
Soft laughter releases from his lips as he rotates his body more toward me, almost to face me. “Give you a compliment?”
“Yeah,” I tell him.
“Just so you know”—he leans in close and speaks only loud enough for me to hear—“I don’t give fake compliments.Ever.”
Nick pulls his phone from his pocket and turns the camera on. He snaps a picture and shows me.
“Oh no,” I mutter, staring at the picture.
“What?” His brows are lifted.
“I havethe look.” I gasp.
“What look?” He stares at the picture, trying to figure it out.
“I cannot fall in love with you.”
Laughter rolls out of him. “Then don’t.”
“This feels too easy,” I say, my voice low, staring at the photo.
“We look good together, like we belong,” he confirms, and hearing him admit that does something to me.
“I think we might break some people’s hearts on November first,” I say, hoping mine isn’t one of them. I’m already trying to predict the town’s reaction when I explain why we’re over.
He smirks. “I’ll be your long-distance fake boyfriend as long as you need, babe. I have no plans to hop into a relationship anytime soon. Kinda good on that.”
“Agreed. It honestly feels good not to have to try to impress you,” I tell him. “It might be you and me indefinitely at this rate.”
“I’m down for that,” he says. “Would make my life so much easier.”
“Me too,” I admit. “My mom would stop trying to hook me upwith a different guy every week. I think she’s scared I’m going to be single until I’m in my prime.”
“There is nothing wrong with that, if it’s what you want.”
Our drinks are set in front of us. I lift the extra shot of tequila, downing it, wanting it to shake my nerves loose. Nick sips his whiskey and continues to read the menu. Every once in a while, he steals a glance at me and grins. It’s adorable.
The chips arrive, along with fresh salsa that has just enough kick to keep my mouth on fire. We order our food. With the lights low and how close we’re sitting, I’m suddenly aware of how intimate this feels. I can smell his cologne, feel his warmth, and I want to be closer.
“So,” I say, taking a sip of my margarita for courage, “I should probably give you some feedback.”
