Page 67 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

Allie

The vibration of my phone cuts through the silence like a siren in a library. Snatching it up, I read Thatcher’s text—each word clinical, precise. Not even a hint of acknowledgment of that kiss.

Two days.

Two days passed without any correspondence. And now…thisis what I get?

Thatcher:

Text Jason to schedule dinner tonight. 7:30 PM at The Oyster Bar. Wear something nice.

Tonight?I think, my thumb hovering over the reply button.

That’s too short notice. It looks desperate, doesn’t it? Especially since I already canceled my hike with Jason this weekend.

My mind zips back to that kiss; unexpected, intense...and now apparentlyforgotten.

Or at the very least, ignored.

Neither of which feels very good. The fact that Thatcher’s trying to rush a date between Jason and me is like a splash of cold water—or maybe hot coffee—right in the face.

“Ugh,” I groan, sitting on the edge my bed, Biscuit jumping up beside me with a concerned yip. “What the hell is he doing, Biscuit?”

Biscuit cocks his head as if to say:Don’t ask me, I’m just here for the treats.

I start typing a reply, thumbs clacking away before I hit backspace with a vengeance.

“Hey Thatch, about that earth-shattering kiss...”

Nope. Too dramatic.

“Thatcher, when you kissed me, did you?—”

Too desperate.

Do you like me: Yes or No?

Frustrated, I flop back onto my bed with a groan. After several more attempts, my eyes flicker between the drafts and Biscuit, who seems to be getting impatient. “What do you think? Do I go the direct route or play it cool?”

Biscuit barks, which I decide to take as an affirmative for the latter.

“Play it cool wins, I guess,” I say with a sigh as I type my response to him.

Allie:

Why dinner and not the hike this weekend that he and I originally planned?

Thatcher:

Because…I need to be able to stay nearby while going undetected. That’s easier in a restaurant than on a hiking trail. Especially now that he thinks I’m your cousin.

Allie:

Does this mean I’ve been uninvited from dinner at your house? I know it was for the other night, but I hoped the invitation would be extended…

I feel Biscuit’s big, brown eyes on me. “Don’t judge me,” I say. “Sometimes the direct route is also needed.”

Biscuit whimpers and rolls onto his back for a belly rub.

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