Page 38 of Almost Perfect
My eyes met his, and I had the crazy urge to charge at him. To knock him over and climb on top of him and kiss those well-formed lips. “I’m tall, so yes. I like tall men.”
He swayed toward me, like a gust of wind pushed him or he lost his balance for a minute, but other than little wisps of straggling snowflakes, the air was still. “Well, it’s good he’s such a strapping fellow already.”
Something like anticipation spiraled through my chest and made my fingers and toes tingle, ready for what came next. Because something was definitely coming. I didn’t look away when I said, “Yes, it is.”
A strum sounded from his pocket, and he winced. “That’s my alarm.”
Ah, right. The alarm.For his date. With someone who was not named Callaway Rice. Who was not queen of the dumpster fire life splashed across the internet and tabloids.
I took a giant step backward and nearly toppled but kept it together. “Right. You better get going. See you later.”
Or not, if he stayed out late. If he didn’t come home.
Ugly, sour jealousy sparked in my gut. I had no claim to him, no rights where he was concerned. And he couldn’t have been interested in me, or he wouldn’t be leaving here, now.
I dropped down to roll a head I wouldn’t be able to put on by myself but needed somewhere to focus.
He stepped toward me as he pulled something from his pocket and held it out to me. “For you.”
I jerked my eyes to his hands, avoiding his gaze.
“Thanks,” I said, grabbing the small card and looking at it without seeing.
“Have a good afternoon, Calla,” he said quietly, and his boots crunched along the path back to his house.
I shoved it into my pocket, determined not to give it or him any more attention.
I didn’t stop my rolling and patting until I heard his garage door shut in the distance. And then, I lay back in the snow and spread my angel wings and let the tiny flakes melt into my face, refusing to be hurried by his departure.
Refusing to want the many things I didn’t have.
It wasn’t until hours later that I fished the card out and saw it. Textured cardstock with a natural brown color. In black writing, a familiar logo.Pluck: Music for your Soul.Below that, the location, website, and a phone number.
I’d mentioned writing a bit. Not having my guitar. At some point this last week, I’d been agonizing over a particular song and had wondered aloud if I’d do better with it if I could play along, though part of me still felt relieved I couldn’t fully commit to writing like I would’ve in the past. That trepidation made no sense, but there it was, and I hadn’t bothered looking too closely at it.
I’d had no idea he’d heard me, or noticed. I never imagined he’d be thoughtful enough to do this. Such a small thing, but it showed me he’d thought about me. Maybe he had a Pluck card sitting around, but more likely, he’d grabbed it one day this week while in town.
I’d been staring the little shop down anytime I visited Silverton but hadn’t given myself permission to go inside. And this nudge, even with the bittersweet reality that the thoughtful man who’d given it to me was currently cozied up with someone else, still felt like a sign. Like proof that I didn’t need to keep pretending my heart wasn’t in the writing. That I didn’t need to express myself in that creative way.
I’d admitted the writing was healing—it was part of this time. Whatever nerves I felt about diving fully in, using all my skill and creativity to create something new here, I had to move past them. Iwould.
Now I just had to get a ride to town.
SIXTEEN
Wyatt
The date with Grace was nice. In another version of the story, I would’ve asked her out again.
Aside from times when things totally flopped, I aimed for at least three dates. First dates were awkward, especially when set up through an app. Second dates eased you in. By three, you’re comfortable. You definitely touch in some way—hands, maybe a hug or kiss. Sometimes that came earlier, but I never pushed for it. I suspected that the general lack of chemistry between me and my past dates dictated the general lack of physical touch.
And yes, I was well aware that many people had fully hooked up by date three. That wasn’t me, especially in a situation where I lived in a small town, knew most of the people, and often knew their entire families. Plus, I just didn’t have the heart for it at this point. Sleeping with someone I didn’t have real feelings for and a future with rang hollow.
Plus, I hadn’t felt moved in that direction. Not that I hadn’t found anyone attractive, but I hadn’t had that instant chemistry with anyone. Nothing like what I had with—well, nothing so remarkable I had to do something about it.
So me and Grace? Yeah, we might’ve gone out again. She was pretty, nice, interesting enough. There was just one problem. But I didn’t let myself think it—didn’t let the thought fully materialize.
Keeping my mind away from the subject I’d determinednotto think about had become a full-time job for my brain as I sat through a pleasant hour at Rise and Shine where I’d met Grace.
