Page 64 of Any Second Now
do you have time to save me? Lachlan is dragging me out again with Barrett Steele tonight
Me
That kid is your nemesis
Atticus
I just don’t like him
I chuckle. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Atticus was a bit off last weekend when we were out with Barrett. I can kind of understand it. He’s a hockey star coming onto the team to replace their friend. He’s also the player who is responsible for Atticus’s injury.
But I think if Atticus gives him a chance, Barrett might fit right in with him and Lachlan. The three of them could charm the pants off the entire state of Colorado.
I don’t think I imagined it that Atticus was getting particularly annoyed when Barrett turned his attention to me. It was innocent, though, and Atticus must see that. Barrett is good-looking and entertaining, but I’m zero percent interested in a twenty-five-year-old professional hockey player.
I pick up my phone again.
Me
So what’s the plan?
I am not a huge drinker.
And from what Lucy tells me, during the season, neither are most of the hockey boys. Their bodies are their jobs and they are hyper focused on staying fit.
We are not in hockey season, but Atticus hasn’t drank a ton tonight.
I’ve had two glasses of wine, but that’s it for me. I don’t want to get sloppy—or sweaty, as it’s hot tonight—and I plan to drive home at some point.
Although that ship might have sailed. Will a ride service takeme to the campsite? Probably, but it feels extra uncomfortable to take a hired car into the woods.
“It’s too bad Melissa’s out of town this weekend again. I would’ve loved for you two to meet her.” Lachlan looks between me and Barrett.
“And here we go.” Atticus sighs deeply and raises his eyes to the sky.
I watch the conversation with a grin on my face.
“She’s the love of my life, mate,” Lachlan says.
“Amazing.” Barrett drains his beer and slams it on the table. “And the kind of sappy, whipped love that I hope never finds me.”
“What?” Lachlan furrows his brow.
We’re sitting outside on Main Street in downtown Fort Collins, the bar is crowded, and the night is beautiful. I’m in a cute graphic t-shirt that has a mountain andColoradoon it, and a pair of straight jeans with a hole in the right knee. I did some shopping in town this week and am working on getting out of theI’m a pharmacistlook. My usual go-to has been black pants or skinny jeans and a boring, work appropriate short-sleeved shirt. I have very reluctantly put my skinny jeans in the back of a drawer in the Pink Palace.
I haven’t been to bars regularly in years.
A lot of years.
And I don’t want to look like some outdated Millennial.
The fact that I’m even thinking about this kind of thing means I am, in fact, an outdated Millennial.
“I’m happy for you, but relationships are not for me. They’re just a big distraction. And I like being free. Especially as a hockey player—women basically line up to be with me.” Barrett slides a glance to me, seeming to remember I’m there. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m not lining up to be with anyone.” I’m definitely not. And that feels good. The thing is, I loved the idea of relationships. I loved the idea of marriage. That must be true, given I got married twice before the age of thirty.
But I’m not sure if it’s meant to be for me.
