Page 98 of Puck Happens

He just gave me that look that said I was being stupid.

Spending money on an Uber when I was probably going to have to dump a whole bunch back into Tonya wasn’t the smartest decision.

Please, let it just be a battery.

I packed up my stuff and followed him through the complex out to the parking lot.

“Coach tell you we start practicing at the arena next week?”

“Yes,” I said, following closely behind him. “Although that would have been a next level prank. Moving the team and leaving me behind.”

“Baby, I would have sent you GPS coordinates.”

I snorted. “You’re all heart, Heart.”

We drove back in a relatively companionable silence to his building. For my part, I was putting the script together in my head.

Sure, you can jump the battery.

No, you can’t jump me.

No, I’m taking the car to the mechanic myself because I’m a big girl.

Okay, fine. If you want to come along just to make sure I’m not getting dicked over by a mechanic because I know nothing about cars – you can. But we’re not getting something to eat after, so don’t even suggest it.

Be firm. Stick to my guns.

* * *

Liv

“CanI get you guys any dessert?” our waiter, a nice young man named Jeremy, asked us. Of course he wasn’t looking at us. He was looking at me. The woman.

Who more than likely wanted dessert. Because hello, it was dessert.

“Yes,” I said. Because I did want dessert. “But no.” I also said. Because I had restraint, and of course knew that dessert was a total luxury and not something I needed after demolishing a Nashville Hot Chicken sandwich with fries.

“So that’s a no?” Jeremy asked, looking for clarification.

“Yes. I mean no. I mean, yes, I would like a dessert, of course, because it’s delicious. But no, I won’t be ordering it, because it’s not necessary.”

A lot of the night had been unnecessary. The mechanic had swapped out the battery but then Dillon insisted on a full diagnostic check and an oil change, which meant the mechanic was going to keep my car until tomorrow.

When Dillon suggested dinner, it wasn’t like I had options because he was driving.

Weak, Liv. Really super weak.

So, I still didn’t have my car, but the chicken sandwich had been delicious.

“This is clearly a process,” Dillon said, sitting in the booth across from me. His big fat knees were touching mine, the booth was so small. “I’m so glad this isn’t a date. Like if this was a date, I would think you’re a little flaky right now.”

I kicked his shin under the table.

“Ow!”

“I’m sorry, Jeremy. I admit, I tend to be a little indecisive when it comes to dessert, but no, I’m totally firm now. I do not want dessert. Thank you.”

“Cool,” he nodded.

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