by Terri Osburn
“Sure,” I replied, telling myself not to read anything into this. “What do you need?”
He looked around as if to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard. “Is there anything between you and Fletcher or not?”
Annoyed, I said, “Not.”
“Then what was that at the bar?”
I sighed, debating how to answer. Technically, this was none of his business, but since Fletcher had been spreading one very big lie, it was probably best to tell him the truth. “I found out that he was telling people I want him back, which I don’t. I took him outside to clear that up.”
“It looked more like he took you outside.”
Not liking that implication, I rose to my full five foot two inches and said, “I ran into you because I reached the door first. Because I told him I needed to talk to him outside and he was following me. Now I have a question for you. Why are you so worried about me and Fletcher when you have Wendy at home?”
The man had the nerve to smile. “Wendy is my dog.”
He sure knew how to take the wind out of a girl’s sails. “Your dog?” The nod paired with a smirk said I’d just outed myself as a jealous woman. Embarrassment made my cheeks hot. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”
“And I didn’t know that you were done with Fletcher.” Lifting his ball cap, he ran a hand through his thick brown hair. “How about we try this from the beginning?” Dropping the cap back into place, he extended a hand. “I’m Ryan Stallings. Nice to meet you.”
He could be really charming when he wanted to be. “I’m Megan Knox,” I said, accepting the handshake.
“I know we just met,” he said, struggling to control his grin, “but would you like to have dinner with me?”
My heart fell to my knees as I tried to keep up the pretense. Gosh, he was beautiful when he smiled. “I don’t even know you,” I pointed out, attempting to flip my hair over my shoulder and forgetting it was up in a ponytail.
Ryan snorted but recovered quickly. “There’s only one way to fix that. What do you say?”
Since I was so bad at it, I dropped the act. “You mean tonight?”
“I was thinking more like tomorrow. Something nicer than sweaty T-shirts and ball caps.”
As if resurrected, my heart shot right back into my chest and started beating double time. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” He leaned forward and I thought he might kiss me, but instead he opened the hatch on my car and held it open. “We can’t have you hit your head again.”
The giggle that escaped my lips made me sound like a middle schooler. “Thank you.” I tossed my bag inside and stepped away so he could let the hatch close. “If you give me your phone, I’ll put in my number.”
He did as asked, and I hit save a few seconds later. Once I handed it back, he touched the screen a few times, and then my phone dinged.
“That’s me,” he said. “Seven tomorrow? You can text me your address.”
Mesmerized by the twinkle in his eye, all I could do was nod in approval.
Backing away, he said, “See you tomorrow, Megan.”
My name had never sounded so sexy before. “See you, Ryan.”
He took several more steps before turning around to walk to his car. I watched him go to see what he drove and was relieved when he climbed into a very practical white Chevy Cruze.
With a sigh, I came to my senses and caught sight of Fletcher farther down the parking lot. He was standing with his door open, watching me over the roof of his car. Once we made eye contact, he shook his head and climbed in. The red Charger peeled out of the parking lot seconds later.
If he expected me to feel guilty about going out with another man, then he would be highly disappointed. He’d made his decision and hadn’t even given me a choice. There’d been no discussion. Just we’re through and he’d made me feel like it was my fault. Now I was moving on, just as he had with Fiona. If he didn’t like it, that was his problem, not mine.
Shoving my ex out of my head, I replayed the last two minutes and could not stop smiling. Did that really happen? Wait. I was going on a date. In twenty-four hours. Holy crap.
I was going on a date.
Sometime in the year after we all graduated college, my friends and I established group chats. These happened when one person sent out an SOS of sorts, and the others dropped whatever they were doing to answer the call. Back then, we had to do them in person, but thanks to modern technology, we could all be scattered yet still present and ready to listen.
Being asked on a date didn’t necessarily qualify as an SOS situation, but I was invoking the chat anyway, because I had no idea what to wear or what to say and this called for reinforcements.
“What’s going on?” Becca said as she popped into the video chat. She was sitting on her couch with her laptop and I could see her cat Milo peering over her shoulder.
“We’re waiting for Lindsey,” Josie said with an eye roll. “She’s at some parent-teacher thing but said she’ll be on in a few.”
“Is this about that letter from your mom?” Donna asked.
“Not the letter.” I was slouched against my headboard with my knees up at nose level.
“No one is sick or hurt?” Josie asked. “Pops is okay?”
The girls all loved Dad, as everyone did. “Dad is good. In fact, he’s seeing someone.”
Donna dropped her phone as Becca said, “Daddy Knox has a girlfriend?”
“Holy shit,” Donna said. “You’ve got to warn a girl before dropping a bomb like that.”
“Sorry.” I slouched down even deeper. “He just told me about her on Sunday. Her name is Nessa, and I’m hoping to meet her soon.”
“I’m here,” Lindsey cut in as another box popped up. There was no one in the frame.
“Are you in your car?” Becca asked as we all squinted at our screens.
An engine roared to life. “I’m driving home and you all are on the passenger seat. What’s going on?”
I pulled the collar of my T-shirt up over my chin. “I have a date,” I mumbled.
“You what?” Josie said.
I sat up a bit. “I have a date tomorrow.”
“With who?” Becca asked.
“A guy on my softball team.”
“Tell me you are not going back out with Fletcher,” Donna snapped, looking ready to come through the phone and beat some sense into me.
“Not Fletcher. His name is Ryan.”
“You called a chat because you have a date?” Lindsey chimed in. “Woman, that is not an emergency.”
“It is when you haven’t been on a first date in nearly four years.” Pulling a Squirtle plushie into my lap, I added, “I don’t know what to wear, or where we’re even going. He just said something nicer than sweaty T-shirts and ball caps.”
Donna snorted. “That could be anywhere.”
“Are you letting him pick you up?” Josie asked, ever the protective one of the group. “Are you sure you want him to know where you live? How well do you know him?”
“Not well,” I answered honestly. “I just met him at the first practice last week.”
“Did you already give him your address?”
“Watch where you’re going, jackass!” yelled Lindsey. We were used to her road-raging ways and ignored her.
“Yes, I did. Josie, he’s a nice guy, not an ax murderer.”
Throwing her hands in the air, she rolled her eyes. “That you know of.”
“There’s no reason to assume the worst,” Becca pointed out, ever the peacekeeper. “What does he do for a living, Meg?”
“He works in finance.”
Donna cackled. “We know how dangerous those people are.”
The rest of us laughed, but Josie wasn’t amused. “Chuckle all you want, but this is a serious matter.” Pointing at her computer screen, she added, “Let us know where he takes you, and check in throughout the evening. If I don’t hear from you every hour, I’m coming to find you.”
“Aren’t you
playing cards tomorrow night?” Donna asked.
Josie was as competitive as I was, but athletics weren’t her thing. She preferred tabletop games. If cards were involved, all the better.
“I’ll dip out for Megan if I have to,” she replied.
“Me, too,” said Lindsey. “Not that I have anything to dip out of tomorrow night, but I’ll drive the getaway car.” That led to groans from the rest of us. “I’m a good driver, damn it.” Before we could respond, a car horn blared and she shouted, “I had my blinker on, dumbass!”
“Can we maybe let Lindsey go?” asked Becca. “Before she kills herself or someone else? I think the rest of us can handle this issue.”
“I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“Maybe not,” said Donna, “but I’m getting car sick watching that air freshener on your mirror sway back and forth.”
The frame went black as she flipped the phone. “There. Now you can’t see it. Come on, guys. I’ll just listen.”
“You’re fine, Lindsey.” I hopped off my bed. “So the first problem. What do I wear?” Crossing to my closet, I dragged the doors open and flipped the camera on my phone so they could see my wardrobe. “Dress? Jeans? What?”
“I vote jeans,” Donna said.
Josie nodded. “I agree.”
“That does sound like your best bet. Unless he seems like a more formal guy.” Becca rubbed Milo’s head absently. “What’s he look like anyway? You haven’t told us anything about him.”
I dropped back onto the bed. “He’s maybe five foot nine. Brown eyes with ridiculously long lashes. Wavy brown hair a tad on the long side.” I fell onto my back and pictured his face in my mind. “He has a great smile. The kind where one side of his mouth curls up before the other side, and his face slowly gets brighter as the smile grows. Then he looks at you like that and you forget how to breathe.” Silence followed and I realized what I’d said. Clearing my throat, I sat back up. “I mean. He’s a cute guy.”
“Well shit,” Donna said. “Does he have a brother?”
“You’re such a goner,” Josie teased. “I forgot you’ve always fallen way faster than the rest of us.”
That didn’t sound right. “Since when?”
“You moved in with Fletcher after how long?” she asked.
“Three weeks,” Becca answered for me.
“That was only because my lease was up, and his roommate was moving out.” I scooted back up to my headboard. “Neither of us could afford to live alone back then.”
“So he moved you in to pay half the bills,” Donna said. “How romantic.”
This was not supposed to be a review of my past mistakes.
“So I’m wearing jeans tomorrow, and I’ll let you guys know where we’re going. I think we’re done here.”
“Seriously,” Donna said, sobering. “Be careful. It doesn’t sound like you know much about this guy beyond that swoony smile of his. Remember, the one commonality among serial killers is that no one ever guessed they were serial killers.”
A disturbing thought. “He has a dog named Wendy. I can’t imagine a serial killer having a dog named Wendy.”
“Maybe he gets rid of the bodies by feeding them to the dog,” Lindsey suggested.
“Ew. You have to stop watching the ID channel.” To me, Becca said, “Have a good time tomorrow, but definitely let us know the location.” As if jumping on the killer theory bandwagon, she added, “Just in case.”
This was getting out of hand. “Guys, I’ll be fine. I’ll be nervous and probably make a fool of myself, but I will not be killed. Or become dog food.” Because I knew their fears weren’t completely baseless, I added, “When I find out where we’re going, I’ll send a text.”
“Good girl.” Donna started walking, taking us all with her. “I’m just editing pics tomorrow night so if you need me, I’m here.”
“I’ll be with Jacob,” Becca said, “but if you need us, you know we’ll be there.”
Yes, I did. As goofy, annoying, and overprotective as they were, these ladies were my family.
“Thanks, guys. Love you all.”
“Love you,” echoed the four women before we all ended the chat.
Grateful they were in my life, I left the phone on the bed and shuffled into the bathroom. Sliding on a Pikachu headband, I slid my hair back from my face before reaching for my box of face masks. Examining my pores in the mirror, I mumbled, “Now to get rid of as many of you as I can.”
Chapter Ten
In the two hours before the date, I changed clothes four times. To contrast this, the last time Fletcher and I went out to eat before the breakup, I wore leggings, a Naruto hoodie, and a DC Comics baseball cap. Maybe I had let the spark die a bit.
Despite the girls’ agreement that I should wear jeans, I kept second-guessing and slipping into casual dresses, but most were ones I wore to work. Every time I looked in the mirror the words boring librarian screamed back at me. That wasn’t the vibe I wanted to give so I conceded to my friends and switched back to jeans. I even found a somewhat stylish white denim jacket that I rarely wore in the back of the closet.
Giving myself a final check in the mirror, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear before reaching for the lip gloss. As I smacked my lips together, my cell rang and I rolled my eyes, knowing it was Josie. She’d have to wait for the date info until after Ryan picked me up. And then she’d still have to wait until I found a spare minute to send the text without giving the move away.
Snagging the phone off my dresser, I answered without looking at the screen. “I don’t know yet, woman.”
“Megan, it’s Dad.”
Oops. “Oh, sorry about that. I didn’t look and thought you were Josie.”
“That’s okay. What don’t you know yet?” he asked.
“I’m going on a date tonight, but I don’t know where to yet.”
“A date? How come you didn’t tell me?”
I guess I should have called earlier, but today was laundry day. Between that and getting lost in my book for a couple of hours, I hadn’t thought about it.
“He only asked me last night. It’s a new guy on my softball team.”
“Is he nice?”
An odd question, since I wasn’t likely to go out with someone who wasn’t nice, but then as the girls had pointed out, I didn’t know him that well yet.
“Seems to be. What’s up with you? Did you need something?”
Dad cleared his throat, which told me something serious was coming. “I’m calling to invite you to lunch tomorrow. I want you to meet Nessa.”
Meet the girlfriend? I hadn’t expected the moment to come so soon. Or so out of nowhere. I’d never say no, of course. The same elation he’d displayed while talking about her last weekend remained in his voice now. I wasn’t exactly a little kid, but this still felt like a monumental moment. This could be the first time I meet my future stepmother.
Wow, did that sound strange in my head.
“I’d love to, Dad.” Checking the clock as I passed through the living room to grab some shoes from the front closet, I saw that Ryan would arrive any minute. “Can you text me the details? I still need to get my shoes on and my date should be here soon.”
“Of course, of course. Nessa is a little nervous about meeting you, but I told her she had nothing to worry about.” He paused before adding, “She doesn’t, does she?”
He was so cute.
“Nothing at all. If you like her, then I like her.” Any woman smart enough to finally scoop him up after all these years won bonus points in my book. My doorbell rang, making my heart leap into my throat. “My date’s here so I need to go. Message me all the details for tomorrow, and I’ll be there.”
“Will do, hon. Have a good time, but if you need me to come get you for any reason, just call.”
I grabbed my purse and headed down the stairs. “Don’t worry. The girls are already prepared to come to the rescue if needed.” I had a virtual army ready to ride into battle o
ver one innocent date. “Love you,” I said without thinking as I swung the door open.
Ryan blinked over the threshold, clearly surprised by this greeting. “Hello to you, too?”
He looked so good I was smacked speechless for several seconds. The man cleaned up well. His jaw was clean-shaven, his hair brushed back but with a loose curl hovering over his left brow. He wore a light-pink button-down and dark-wash jeans over black leather shoes. Anyone who said a man had to be over six feet tall to look like a model had never seen Ryan Stallings heading out on a date.
Senses returning, I held my phone in the air. “No, no. Not you. I was just hanging up with my dad.”
He visibly relaxed, and the slow smile softened his eyes. “Ah. Okay. Good to know.” Motioning to the stairs, he said, “You ready?”
“I am.” Stepping out, I pulled the door closed behind me and turned to lock it. “Since I didn’t know where we were going, I wasn’t sure what to wear. I hope this is all right.”
Keeping his eyes on my face, he said, “You look great. I like your hair down like that.”
That’s right. He’d only seen me with it up at practices. Trying to ignore the blush warming my cheeks, I dropped my keys into my purse. “Thank you. You look good, too.”
We descended the stairs together to his car parked at the curb, and I climbed inside when he opened the door for me. All of this chivalry was going to take some getting used to. Even on our first date, Fletcher hadn’t opened the car door. I didn’t consider it a slight since my arms were as capable as his, but the thoughtfulness was nice.
“So where are we going?” I asked once he joined me inside.
“Do you like Italian?” he asked.
“Isn’t that a requirement of living in this city?” I replied.
He nodded to the side. “Seems that way. I haven’t been here long, remember?”
I shifted in my seat to face him a little more. “That’s right. Where did you move from?”
“Before here it was Chicago. Before that it was Milwaukee and Columbus.”
“You get around.” I didn’t want to ask about his job lest he turn the questions back on me. Once we got through the date and I hopefully got him to like me, then I would correct the bookstore bit. “Are you the restless type then?”