Page 52 of Stick With Me
“No. I’m not looking for anything serious, but my friends encouraged me to put myself out there again, so here I am,” I tell him, deciding honesty is the best policy.
He smirks, and it hits me with an unsettling familiarity. It’s the same look Jace wore a whole lot of at All-Star Weekend. I can’t quite tell if it’s the guy sitting across from me or the reminder of my ex that sours my stomach.
“I’m looking for something casual, too. You’re stunning, sweetheart. I’d be happy to show you a good time.”
Scratch that: He definitely does not get it.
Did I inadvertently imply I was looking for a hookup? Gosh, I suck at this. I thought shutting down his invitation made it clear I wasn’t looking for that. Especially not with him. “Thank you. Tonight has been nice, but no. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”
Why am I apologizing? Old habits really do die hard. This date was supposed to be about testing the waters as the new me—the version of me who doesn’t mold herself around a man. But here I am, once again, trying to fit into a box to please someone else. This time, I’m not sure why. I don’t even like this guy.
“Of course not. Let’s just see where the night takes us,” James says, undeterred. When he reaches across the table in search of my hand, I grab my wineglass and bring it to my lips to avoid his touch. Still, his eyes drop to my cleavage. Talk about not catching a hint.
I tug the neckline of the too-tight dress Natalie convinced me to wear. I know she wanted me to feel fierce and sexy, but right now, all I feel is uncomfortable. Shifting in my seat, I force a smile, wondering how much longer until I can get up and leave.
My phone vibrates in my clutch where it rests on my lap. Not caring if it’s rude, I check it and see an incoming call from Ryan. “Excuse me for a moment. It’s my friend. It could be important.”
I quickly stand and head toward a hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Leaning against the wall, I shield my ear to block out the chatter of the bar before pressing accept.
“Hannah.” The way he says my name, even in his clipped tone, somehow soothes me.
“Hey. Everything okay?” The silence stretches on for so long that I glance at my screen, half expecting the call to have dropped. It hasn’t. “You still there?”
“Sorry, yeah. I don’t know why I called. I told myself I wouldn’t… but here we are.” He sighs.
“It’s okay. You’re kind of saving me from what’s turning out to be a pretty bad date.” I shuffle into the ladies’ room, searching for more privacy.
“Does that mean there won’t be another one?”
“No, definitely not. I’m actually going to use this call as an excuse to leave.”
I hear him exhale before asking, “Can I come pick you up?”
“You’re not my cab driver, Ry. I’ll just call an Uber. I only had maybe three sips of wine. He ordered some terrible red, and you know how I’m not a big fan of reds.”
“Only Côtes du Rhône.”
“That’s the one! I couldn’t remember the name.”
There’s another long pause before Ryan breaks it. “I’ll pick you up in ten?”
“I don’t want to put you out.” I already feel weirdly guilty for being on this date. The last thing I want to do is make him come pick me up from it.
“What you’d really be doing is putting me out of my misery. I’ve been circling the neighborhood for an hour since I called Natalie and convinced her to tell me where you were.”
“So, I should be worried about your stalker tendencies?” I laugh.
“When it comes to you? Yeah, maybe.” He chuckles, but there’s little humor in it.
I press my hand against my racing heart. Fear would be the expected explanation, but I’m feeling something far from it.
The moment I’m secured in Ryan’s car, the tension drains from my body, and I melt into the heated leather seats. He takes my hands, rubbing them between his. In my rush to leave the house before I changed my mind, I forgot gloves and a hat. My fingers feel like popsicles, despite only being outside for minutes.
“Thank you for picking me up. You really didn’t have to.” The words come out choppy through chattering teeth.
He gives me a look that says,I absolutely did.After he’s satisfied my hands are sufficiently warm, he brings us home.
The short ride passes in tense silence, making my nerves spike. The only sounds are the music from the speakers, the rhythmic bounce of Ryan’s knee, and the soft click of my nails against the ring I can’t seem to stop fiddling with. We’re no strangers to amicable silence, but this feels different, charged. And I can’t help but think I’m the one to blame.
