Page 11 of The Good Girl (Nashville Neighborhood)

Obviously, I didn’t mention what had happened because there was no upside to doing that. If I told Colin his sister had given me the hottest kiss of my life, he’d probably punch me in the face, and I preferred that didn’t happen.

I was a big fan of my face.

My gaze drifted over to Charlotte. She had her phone out and was scrolling through Instagram instead of talking to me. We were strangers, and she didn’t seem the least bit interested in getting to know each other. Shit. Was I going to need to come up with an excuse to bail?

My phone vibrated with a text message, giving me hope until I read the screen.

“Good news,” I forced out. “Our table’s ready.”

We met the hostess inside and followed her through the labyrinth of chairs and tables until she reached an empty spot near the back. The dining room was packed, overcrowded with furniture and guests, and I’d been so busy navigating the tight aisles, I hadn’t paid attention to my surroundings. It wasn’t until I put a hand on the back of my chair and glanced around that I noticed the problem.

“Son of a bitch,” I said.

I’d meant to groan it in my head, but the words had burst from my lips, causing both women at the table right beside mine to look up. As soon as the older woman recognized me, her eyes narrowed into slits.

Mrs. Novak had never liked me, even before all the shit that went down with Colin, and honestly—the feeling was mutual.

But the girl across the table from her?

Well, I knew for a fact she had liked me once.

That seemed less likely now, given the shock and dismay that was painted across Sydney’s face. She stared at me like I’d intruded and had no right to be here. Like I’d planned to ambush her by showing up tableside.

Except I felt the same way she did.

Of all the restaurants in town, of course she had picked this one. Now she’d be around to witness what could be one of my worst dates ever. Was the universe trying to punish me?

My grip tightened on the wooden rail of the chairback. I was angry she was here, sitting so close and looking so damn good. Fuck. I’d spent the last year wondering about her, unable to stop thinking about her and our fucking kiss, and it pissed me off how her crush had flipped and become mine.

And I got angry at Colin for telling me she was off-limits, and at Charlotte for the ridiculous reason that she was not Sydney.

But as I always did when I got angry, I pushed it down. I compacted it away and pretended it didn’t exist. I plastered on a smile as I dragged out the chair I had originally intended to sit in and motioned for Charlotte to take a seat.

It would look like I was being a gentleman, but the truth was I wanted to sit on the other side of the table. That way, if my attention slipped to the right, it would go to Sydney. It would land on the good girl who I’d once said couldn’t handle me, but now I was curious to know if that claim was true.

When I dropped down into my seat, she scowled and fixed her gaze forward. If she wanted to pretend I didn’t exist—okay. I deserved that, and I’d do my best to try the same, even if it was fucking doubtful I’d be successful.

I picked up my food menu and scanned the text. “Do you want to split an app?”

“No, thanks.” Charlotte didn’t reach for the oversized sheet of paper that was laminated in thick plastic. “I’m not hungry.”

I hesitated. “Are we not doing dinner?”

My question caught her off guard, which—it shouldn’t have. I’d asked her if she would want to grab dinner with me some time and if I could have her number. And after we’d texted back and forth, we’d settled on meeting at this restaurant at seven o’clock. That seemed pretty obvious to me we would be eating, but she tilted her head in confusion.

“Maybe we should have drinks first and see how that goes.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a faint smile curl on Sydney’s lips, and embarrassment sliced hotly down my spine.

I dropped the food menu, scooped up the cocktail list, and grinned. “You know what? That’s a great idea.”

Because that meant I could get out of this evening much faster than having a full meal with a date that wasn’t going anywhere.

The restaurant was loud.

Not just the music playing through the speakers, but from the sounds of cutlery on plates and all the conversations going on around us. It made it difficult to overhear what Sydney was talking about with her mother. Although it seemed like her mom was doing most of it in a low voice, and Sydney was simply listening.

I picked up some keywords though, while I pretended to study the cocktail menu. They were talking about Vanderbilt next year, which made sense. It was late May, so she’d probably just finished her sophomore year.

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