Page 43 of Overdue

“Most likely,” I answer. Reed and I stand, silently waiting for the other one to speak.

“Well, where is your gran with those crullers?” Eliot asks. She rises from the couch to make a hasty retreat into the main room. She has to squeeze past Reed, who just scowls at her.

“There’s something wrong with that woman,” he says, watching her walk across the library.

“She’s your friend.”

“I assume it’s hereditary.”

This feels more comfortable. I can handle snarky, insulting Reed better than “after sex silent” Reed.

“It’s learned behavior from her peer group.”

He grins at me. Much better.

“The tarps are holding, and I have your dad and his cronies reinforcing the plywood on the windows. It should be good.” I nod. “I need to go help my crew with cleanup around town if you’re good.”

“Yes. Of course. Thank you.” We’ve hit that awkward thing again.

“Austen—”

“Reed—” we say in unison. I motion for him to continue.

“You want to get some dinner?”

“At eight in the morning?”

“No,” he says, running his hand through his hand. “You know what I mean. Do you want to go to dinner? I just feel like we’ve gone from squabbling to sleeping together in one jump. We should try dating, maybe?”

“Oh.” I think about it for a minute. “So, we’re enemies to lovers.”

“You read too much.” He laughs. “But I’d say we’re more frenemies to lovers.”

“Age-gap.”

“I’m not that much older than you.”

“Definitely small town.”

“I’m picking you up Saturday at seven.” Reed shakes his head. “Have on your finest small-town diner couture.”

“Ooh, fancy.” He grins again. “Okay. Seven.” My face grows serious. “And don’t be late, Mr. Campbell.” Who am I kidding? He could show up three days later, and I’d still happily hop in that truck. He gives me a salute and leaves.

“Everything good?” Eliot asks, poking her head into the room.

“We have a date Saturday,” I answer. “We’re going to dinner.”

“You’re good with everyone talking about it after? You know the gossip wheel will be spinning hard after that.”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

* * *

REED

I’ve never been this nervous to go on a date. I shouldn’t be. It’s just Austen. Beautiful, brilliant, intimidating Austen. She’s put me in my place so many times I have permanent claw marks.

The nervousness isn’t because we had sex. Somehow, I’ve always been able to believe we would eventually dissolve into angry sex. But honest relationship sex? And now a legitimate date? I’m in uncharted territory.

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