Page 78 of Dating Goals
She’s facing away from me at the edge of a stone balustrade, her hair dancing in the wind, her gown rippling around her slender frame. She hugs herself against the cold, shoulders slightly hunched, looking impossibly small and vulnerable against the vast mountain backdrop.
“Anika?” I call softly, afraid she might disappear if I speak too loudly.
She turns, and something inside me shifts, like a goalie mask being lifted after a long, brutal game. The mountain air rushes into my lungs, sharp and sweet.
“Griffin?” Her voice carries on the wind, uncertain.
She looks like something out of a dream. The kind you wake from with your heart still pounding and your soul aching for something you can’t quite name.
My pulse thunders in my ears. My hands actually tremble.
Thank goodness she’s alone. No sign of that…guy. Just Anika.
I take a step toward her, the urge to wrap her in my arms nearly overwhelming. I want to bury my face in her hair, breathe her in, tell her that seeing her with another man made me crazy with jealousy. That I don’t want to be her dating coach anymore. I want to be the guy she’s learning for.
But her expression stops me cold. Those usually warm eyes are winter-lake frozen.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, closing the distance between us. “And without a coat? You must be freezing.”
I shrug out of my jacket and drape it over her shoulders.
The way it engulfs her smaller frame does something primal to my insides. My throat tightens as she pulls it closer around herself, her fingers disappearing in the sleeves.
“Why’d you run off like that?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light despite the worry that’s been gnawing at me. “One minute we’re having the time of our lives, the next you’re gone. Did I do something wrong?”
Anika’s laugh is hollow, nothing like her usual warm chuckle. “No, Griffin. I just thought the practice date was over.”
“Over? We barely started.”
She tugs my jacket tighter around herself, her voice calm but distant. “You seemed…occupied.”
“Occupied? What are you—” Then it hits me. “Wait, you mean with that woman at the bar? That wasn’t…”
Anika’s eyes flick to my cheek, and she points one accusing finger. “You have lipstick. Right there.”
My hand flies to my face, finding the exact spot where Elodie planted her kiss. Heat blazes up my neck. I frantically pull out my handkerchief and scrub at my skin.
“It’s not what it looks like,” I blurt, which, let’s be honest, is exactly what guilty people say in movies right before they get dumped.
“That woman…She just grabbed me at the bar and…”
“And what? Fell face-first onto your cheek?”
“Ambushed me!”
Anika raises one perfect eyebrow. “Ambushed you? With her lips?”
“I was trying to find you when she pounced.” I’m still scrubbing my face, probably turning it into a red, raw disaster zone. “Is it gone?”
Anika sighs. “Almost. You missed a spot.” She points to the corner of my mouth.
“Did I get it now?” I ask, rubbing harder.
“Now you just look like you have a rash.”
“I can explain,” I start, but Anika holds up a hand.
“It’s fine, Griffin.” Her smile is polite, distant. The kind she probably gives to annoying customers at the pub. “I understand this wasn’t a real date. We both know that.”
