Page 23 of Play For Keeps

“Definitely not a date.” I repeat her words back to her. It is so a date, who is she kidding? But I know better than to argue with her. Everly can’t be pushed. I’ve learnt that much.

“Just making sure we’re clear.” She arches an eyebrow, handing me her bag.

“Crystal.”

At Delila’s, Everly and I sink into the avocado-green leather booth, and I can sense her relief at being off her feet. Apart from an older couple at a table near the door, we’re the only ones in the place.

I take my hat off to pull my hoodie over my head. It feels like it’s a million degrees in here. I don’t know if they need to fix their air conditioning or if it’s just sitting this close to Everly that has me feeling like I’m on fire. What the hell is happening to me?

Everly is one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen. Sitting across from me in her comfy clothes, with barely any makeup on, she looks so much better than the women I often see in tight dresses and fake eyelashes, stumbling on heels they can barely walk in. On the drive over, Everly threw on a gray zip-up hoodie that she unzipped to her abdomen, revealing her pale pink athletic bra and perfectly proportioned chest. Somehow, I’m managing to keep my eyes above her tits. For the most part.

As I tug my baseball hat back on my head, I notice Everly checking out the ink on my right arm. But she doesn’t ask about it. Instead, she looks to the menu as she reaches for her water glass.

“You know… I’ve never been to a diner before,” she says as she brings her glass to her lips, looking around the 70s-inspired restaurant.

“You mean I’m the first guy to take you to a diner on a d—”

Her eyes flick back to mine. “I told you, Jake, this isn’t a date.”

I smirk. Teasing Everly is my new favorite hobby. “I’m just giving you a hard time,” I laugh. “You’re cute, by the way, when you’re all riled up.”

She leans one elbow on the table, resting her chin in her palm. Fuck, she’s cute. “And you aren’t being honest.”

She’s right, I’m not being entirely honest with her right now— I’m not telling her how badly I want to kiss her or how I’m dying to touch her skin.

“Why do you say that?” I ask.

Her lips tip up in a wry smile. “You think this is a date.”

Well, she’s not wrong. But date or not, I’m not complaining.

“You’re sort of right,” I say, grinning back at her like a dummy. This whole non-date with Everly seems too good to be true. Like Christmas coming early. “I know it’s not a date, but I wish it was.”

I could have denied it, but what would be the point? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this girl since the day I met her. There’s no question I’m into her. I just don’t know if she feels the same way. I’m pretty sure she does, but she doesn’t want to admit it.

I’ll wear her down eventually.

Everly tucks a few strands of her long hair behind her ear, looking back at me like she’s trying to figure me out. “My age really doesn’t bother you?”

“Not for a second.” I answer her honestly, locking my eyes with hers. I actually think it's hot that she’s seven-years older than me, but I’m pretty sure she would shut down on me if I told her that.

Her playful expression is replaced by something else. She seems uncertain, like she can’t quite tell if I’m being serious or not. I am dead serious.

The moment is interrupted when our waitress appears to take our orders. Everly decides on a turkey club while I go for the patty-melt. We sit in silence for a beat, the air still thick with tension from our conversation. Everly breaks the silence first.

“You didn’t have to bring me here, Jake.”

“I know I didn’t. I wanted to,” I say, my attention solely focused on her. She looks so heart-stoppingly pretty it actually hurts to sit here across from her and not touch her. I’m dying to kiss her, but I have to remind myself that kissing Everly is not on the menu tonight.

Everly and I have talked several times now, but she’s still a mystery to me. There is still so much I don’t know about her. But if I’ve learnt anything at all about Everly, it’s that she needs to take things slow. She doesn’t like to be pushed.

“I have to admit, it’s nice to be out with someone who isn’t constantly talking about Barbies or Peppa Pig,” she says with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” I smirk. “Barbie is a legend.”

She shoots me a dubious look. “Not you too.”

I shrug. “I see a Barbie marathon with Birdie in my future.”

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