Page 53 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
Harper:Feeling brave over text, I see.
Harper:But maybe
I send her emojis, feeling a smile spread across my face. This girl is doing things to me that I don’t know how to handle. I read our texts. Did I just ask her out over text?
I pet Rex and say to him, “I’m such an idiot, Rex. Why would I say that over text?”
24
Close Calls
Harper
Maddiedragsmeoutfor lunch at a cozy pub near campus that’s always packed with students and faculty who want something more substantial than dining hall food. She claims she “needs fries like she needs oxygen,” but I suspect this is really about getting me out of the dorm where I’ve been holed up with homework for the past two days.
I’m halfway through my soda, listening to her vent about her sociology professor’s impossible grading standards, when she casually drops, “Oh, I texted Cole to join us. You don’t mind, right?”
I nearly choke on my drink, carbonation burning my throat as I try to play it cool. “You did what?”
“Oh, I thought––”
“No. It’s totally fine.”
But inside, my stomach is doing gymnastics. Not because I don’t want to see Cole—quite the opposite, actually. It’s been three days since game night at his place, and I’ve been thinking a lot about his text message. His asking offuture girlfriend?It didn’t freak me out. It actually made me giddy and excited, but he’s been busy, and we haven’t seen each other since.
“Good,” Maddie says, completely oblivious to my internal panic. “Because he’s already on his way.”
Five minutes later, Cole walks through the front door, and I swear the temperature in the room rises several degrees. He’s wearing a dark gray t-shirt that fits just right across his shoulders, jeans that look like he actually tried today, and that easy smile that makes something flutter in my chest every single time.
His eyes scan the restaurant until they find our table, and when they land on me, that smile becomes something warmer, more personal. I feel it all the way down my spine.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says as he approaches, leaning down to give Maddie a quick hug before settling into the booth beside me instead of across from us. “Practice ran long.”
“No problem,” Maddie says, waving him off. “We were just talking about Professor Pyper’s reign of terror.”
Cole slides in next to me, close enough that I can smell his soap—something clean and masculine that makes me want to lean closer. His knee brushes mine under the table, and I wonder if it’s accidental or if he’s as aware of the contact as I am.
“The guy who teaches Intro to Sociology?” Cole asks, flagging down our server. “I heard he’s brutal.”
“Brutal doesn’t begin to cover it,” Maddie launches into a detailed explanation of her latest assignment while Cole orders a burger and beer.
I find myself watching him as he listens to Maddie’s story, noting how he gives her his full attention even though she’s clearly being dramatic for effect. There’s something generous about the way Cole interacts with people like he has all the time in the world for whatever they need to say.
When Maddie gets distracted by a text from Sirus, I lean slightly toward Cole, lowering my voice. “So, are you a burger and fries type of a guy?”
He nods. “Is there pasta on the menu for you, noodle girl?”
Our eyes meet and hold for just a beat too long, that familiar awareness crackling between us. This close, I can see the deep shades of his eyes, the way his mouth curves just slightly even when he’s not actively smiling.
“Don’t give me that nickname, please.”
“Okay,” he says smoothly.
I look at his face and say, “I think you would look good with a mustache.”
“You want me to grow it?”
I shrug. “Maybe no shave November? Do it for charity.”
