Page 44 of The Puckable Playbook

The words fly out before I even realize. It’s all Zaiah’s fault. I was in a combative and playful mood texting the stubborn jerk.

My hand flies over my mouth, my phone forgotten. Mortification flits through me, and my face heats like a raging furnace. “Sorry, Clark. I don’t— I just—”

He grins, and it warms his face. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he stands up straight. “I’m always in business mode when we’re in here, aren’t I?”

I nod, holding my phone to my chest. “Which is honorable,” I state. “Very honorable. Please, I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t, um….”

“It’s okay. I kind of like the idea of you smiling at me.”

“You do?” My heart thumps, a rush sounding in my ears. It’s like I’m living in a vacuum as I hear my voice ask, “Maybe we could go do something sometime? Coffee? Or…” That’s all I’ve got. Coffee. “Or something other people do?”

He places his hand on my shoulder. “That would be nice. We should do…something.”

I can’t tell if he’s as nervous as I am or if he’s trying to joke with me about my complete and utter lack of eloquence in this moment, but I did it. I did what Zaiah told me to do, and nowClark keeps staring at me. It’s kind of unnerving, actually. I feel like I have to say something. Anything. I laugh nervously and peer at my feet. “Sorry, I’m bad at this.”

“Me too.” He chuckles, and I feel a little better, but only a fraction.

At least we can be bad together.I think about saying exactly that, but the innuendo stops me. “We could go for coffee now. If we’re done here?”

He checks his watch. Disappointment hits me, but then he answers, “Yeah, I can do that.”

I gather my things and wait as Clark saves the file and shuts his computer down. He doesn’t look at me again until he says, “Ready.” I make sure to walk away first, hoping Zaiah isn’t lying about the way my butt looks in leggings. The more I wear them, the more comfortable I’m getting, too.

He locks up, and then we start off toward the small café on campus. It’s not the first time we’ve gotten coffee together, but other people are usually involved and there isn’t a layer of discomfort hanging around us.

“So, how’s your article coming?”

“Good,” I explain. “I had this idea about polling some of the student body. Different segments, for instance, athletes versus science majors versus a random slice. Then comparing the data.”

“That would be cool.”

He doesn’t sling his arm casually over my shoulder or bump me with his elbow like Zaiah would. He isn’t the type, but if he was, it would make things so much easier.

“How are classes?” I ask because I’ve only crushed on this guy for two years and that’s all I can think to bring up. Before I can eye-roll myself to death, I remind myself that the alternative is letting him know how much of a creeper I’ve been and sling all of his interests out at once.

“They’re okay. I’m ready to graduate and start my life, you know?”

“Any job prospects?”

“Just worrying about graduating for now. I’ll have to stay with my parents, then do the whole send out resumes and stuff. What about you?”

“I don’t know. I’m thinking of freelancing for a bit.”

We finally arrive at the coffee shop, and it’s overrun with people. Luckily, a spot opens up in the far side when two girls wearing workout gear stand to leave, so we take it, and Clark offers to get my coffee.

My leg jumps up and down as I watch him walk up to the counter. Everything I wanted is happening right now, and I’m overwrought with awkwardness. It’s like I’ve never talked to a guy in my life, let alone the one I’m on a date with.

“Hey,” a voice says.

I peer up to find one of Zaiah’s teammates, but I’m not sure of his name. “Oh, hey.”

He sits down. “It was so cool seeing you at the game. We were all talking about it.”

I laugh, nearly choking. My gaze flits to Clark at the counter and back to the seat he’s supposed to occupy that’s now been confiscated by a much larger frame. “Lovely, I can imagine.”

“The Jameses are hilarious. You took it in good stride.”

“Thanks. I think the blue hair really fit me.”

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