Page 24 of Falling Faster
Patrick digs into the bag of chips and emerges with a handful. "What's going on? Is that Devon or Cody? We're video chatting with them in like, ten minutes."
"No." I pause and consider how much to share. But this is Patrick, one of my oldest friends. We've never been less than honest with each other, and the man is never shy about offering his opinion or advice. "I met someone."
"Dude, that's great. I'm happy for you." He gives me a hearty slap on the back.
"He lives in Buffalo."
His brows raise, then draw together. "Oh."
"Yeah." The word holds the weight of my frustrations over Ty being all the way on the other side of the country. I set my phone facedown on the table and grab my beer. "We met at the convention two weeks ago, instantly connected,spent the entire weekend together, and have been texting a ton since he left."
"Wow. That's intense. So, are you doing the long distance thing or what?"
"I don't know." I drag a hand through my hair. "It's so new."
Nodding, my friend leans into the back cushion and crosses his legs, ankle resting on his knee. He tips back his bottle and takes a long swallow. "Then I guess you have to wait and see what happens."
"Easy for you to say." My feelings are a little too explosive for that logical brand of thinking to calm them. I stab a chip into the guac. It snaps in half.
Patrick steals the second, larger piece out of the container. "Why's that? Can't you just sit back and enjoy the ride?"
"Doing that would be easier if I knew he and I wanted to head to the same destination." My gaze flicks to my phone. The feelings I have for Ty overwhelm me. I've never had that happen before.
"Where did you get that sketch of yourself?" Beer in hand, he gestures toward the framed picture hanging on the wall over the piano.
I can't help smiling. Every time I sit down to play, my own likeness, sketched by Ty's hand, reflects back at me. "The guy I met is an artist. He sketched it the day we met."
Patrick stands, then wanders closer to the image. He tucks his hands into his back pockets as he leans in to study the sketch. "Looks just like you. He's good."
A warm mix of happiness and pride fills me, welling deep in my chest. "His name is Ty, and he's amazing. His portfolio is impressive. I'll send you a link if you want to check it out."
"Sure. I'll take a look." He strolls back to the couch. After reclaiming his seat, he studies me, his hazel gaze intense.When he speaks again, his voice is softer, gentler. "You really like him, don't you?"
"I do." So much.
He nods. "I hope it works out the way you want."
"Thanks, man." I reach over and clink our beers together.
We dig into the chips and guacamole. Then, Patrick laughs and smacks me on the arm, dislodging a chip from my hand. His serious expression is gone, replaced by a smart ass smile. "I've never seen you so giddy over text messages."
Embarrassment wars with indignation as I brush the broken chip pieces off my lap. "I was not giddy." Ihadbeen smiling, that much I know. But giddy? Highly doubtful… Right?
"Buddy, which one of us had a clear view of your face?" That smile grows to a grin and he settles against the cushions, clearly enjoying himself. "If you don't like giddy, how about besotted? Smitten? Enamored? Enthralled? Beguiled?"
Laughing, I wing a chip at him, scoring a direct hit to the center of his chest. "Fuck you."
"No, thanks." His eyes gleam as his lips twist into a smirk. "I'll leave that for Ty."
"You…" Sputtering, surprised and amused, I hurl another chip. I have to give credit where it's due—Patrick is fast with a quip, and always has a witty comeback. "Bastard. But that was pretty funny."
"It was, but I can't take all the credit, you did feed me an easy setup."
"Well, I am also nownotfeeding you an actual dinner."
With a shrug like he knows my threat carries no weight, he raises his bottle to his lips. "It's probably my turn to buy anyway. Let's get the guys on video. Then we'll put in an order for food."
"Sure." I reach for my phone. Trepidation over thepossibility of Ty sending another text and it popping up on the screen for Patrick to see stops me halfway. "Let's use yours instead. I'll put the pizza order in on mine."
