Page 53 of Love at Second Down

Good. This is good.

The passenger door opens with a squeak, and I jerk with a start, turning to find Liz, climbing into the passenger side of my pickup. She’s all smiles, and I blink, my gaze flickering over the oversized, shapeless sweatsuit she’s wearing. I’m all for chicks in casual clothes, but this is not the cute kind of look a girl might wear to the gym or to run some errands. No, this is full-on, couch-dwelling, I’m-sick-and-I-hate-everything-and-everyone-so-I’m-going-to-binge-watch-Netflix energy.

Even her normally lustrous, mahogany locks are thrown back into a lopsided bun, the purple streak prominent on the top of her head like a tiger stripe.

I swallow when I realize I’ve been staring. “Uh, hey.”

“Hi,” she says, sounding like she’d rather be on her deathbed.

It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a real date, forever since I’ve tried to impress a girl, but I’m pretty sure this is where I say something nice about her appearance. “Um, you look . . .” I trail off, searching for a compliment in a sea of baggy fleece.

In her hands, she clutches a metal water bottle like it’s the only thing tethering her to this planet. “Thirsty?” I ask, and promptly wince.

Liz barks out a laugh and nods, then takes a healthy sip from the bottle. “Gotta stay hydrated,” she says, punctuating it with a snap of the lid.

I narrow my eyes, trying to think of a time I’ve ever seen dressed like this. “Did you just get back from the gym or something?” I say, hoping it’s true.

I didn’t realize Liz worked out. Maybe she’s a gym rat. Maybe we’ll have something in common after all.

“No.” She shakes her head with a little shrug, and I realize I just gave her a backhanded compliment. “I’m not one for physical exertion,” she adds.

Shit.

“Right.” I nod, like I understand, and wait until Liz snaps her seatbelt into place before I pull out. “Are you ready for this?”

“Sure,” she says, her tone flat, leaving me to wonder if the girls had to twist her arm to come on this date.

How embarrassing.

“So . . .” I say as I navigate onto the main road, trying to think of something to jump-start the conversation since I’ve already fucked up. “First dates are the worst, am I right?” I say, realizing too late how bad it sounds. “I just mean, they’re nerve-racking, right?”

Liz shrugs, staring aimlessly out her window. “I’m filled with dread, if that’s what you mean.”

My grip tightens on the wheel, my knuckles white as I take the ramp to the highway and try to come up with a response. “Well, at least you’re honest.”

“Would you rather I not be?” she asks, glancing at me now.

“No.” I shake my head. “No, honesty is good. And in full transparency, I’m not even sure why I agreed to this.” I lift one shoulder. “The boys thought it would be good for me. That if I can find someone I’m interested in, it’ll help me move on.”

“From an ex?” Liz asks. Her tone is light, but her gaze is sharp, and I wonder if she knows something, or if she’s simply pissed that I referred to my ex five minutes into our date.

I shoot her a nervous glance before turning my attention back to the road.

Fuck, this is awkward.

“Yeah. Stupid, huh?”

She smiles. “Very.”

I bark out a laugh. The girl isn’t holding any punches.

Silence settles in the cab of my truck while I struggle to come up with something to say that won’t result in a dead-end, but she just keeps sipping from her water bottle like she’s trying to set a world record in hydration, while my mind draws a blank.

I’ve been around Liz at least a dozen times before now, and while I’ve never spent any time with her alone, we’ve shared drinks at the bar and danced in a group together at Bradd’s. I have to admit, never before have any of our interactions been even half as awkward as this one. It’s almost like her silence is calculated. Like she’s choosing to be obstinate, purposely saying as little as possible, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. The only reason I can think of is the girls had to coerce her into coming.

When I come to a stop at a red light, I sneak a glance at her. The sweatsuit has some kind of faded logo on it, maybe from a summer camp or a high school club? I wouldn’t be surprised ifit belonged to an ex or an older brother. It swallows her small frame, turning her into some amorphous blob of cotton. Which is a shame, because beneath all that baggy material, she has a nice figure. But right now? Right now, this girl looks as though she’s doing everything in her powernotto be noticed.

The light turns green, and I ease back on the gas. I’m still trying to get a read on her, which is difficult since she’s giving me nothing to go on.

---