Page 74 of Pucked Up Plans
Undressing him.
I wake up in a cold sweat as we’re about to finally do the deed. I heave all foreboding thoughts aside. It’s only a dream. It means nothing.
Aubrey helps me make pancakes for breakfast before we hit the grocery store. Aunt Marsha’s shopping for everything we need for the meal on Thursday, but I want to make another batch of cranberry cookies. Now it’s two batches. I smile at how Walsh easily convinced me to make a batch for him.
Like he knew I was thinking about him, a text message comes through on my phone.
Wanna know something I don’t tell many people?
I feel so special. Of course
I lead Aubrey to the frozen aisle to grab the chicken nuggets for Lennon. She earns a smirk for the way she insisted I get two bags. He’s so going to have his hands full when she’s a teenager.
I hope I’m around to witness it,a voice whispers in the back of my head. It’s years away, but even if nothing transpires between Walsh and me, I hope Lennon and Aubrey stay friends.
I hate bus rides to away games
“That’s your secret?” I blurt in the middle of the grocery aisle after reading his message. Aubrey peers funnily at me. Stopped in front of the nuggets, I motion for her to grab two bags of the Mickey nuggets. Instead, she grabs three.
“I think we need more, otay?” she muses optimistically.
Fairly certain we have an entire bag in our freezer, but I won’t deny her request. “Sure thing.” I scan our basket, checking to make sure we have everything on our list. In my hand, my phone startles me.
WALSH.
There’s about a two-second debate about whether to answer the call. For no other reason than because I’m in the middle of the grocery store. The urge to hear his voice wins out.
He doesn’t let me get in a hello before he starts right in. “I hate the front of the bus, but if I move farther back, I risk vomiting. It started in high school and has only gotten worse the past few years.” There’s a reason he’s telling me this, which he’ll reveal when he’s ready. “Want to know why I’m telling you this now?”
“I wondered.”
“It’s a new game I thought we could play. You in?”
I don’t answer right away. A game he wants to play? I’m not much for games. I’m leery of how playing any game with a guy could go wrong.
So very wrong.
At least that’s been my experience. But so far, what Walsh has shown me, I like very much.
Not beating around the bush any longer, I give him my truth. “I want to say yes, but I’m in the middle of the frozen foods aisle and not exactly sure what I’m agreeing to.”
“You answered my call at the grocery store?”
“Um, yeah. Should I not have?” Unsure of where he’s going with this, I’m committed to seeing this to the end, rooted to the floor. Thankfully, the store isn’t too busy. Which seems crazy for the middle of the Sunday afternoon before Thanksgiving.
I can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks again. “I feel special, Tate.”
He makes me feel special too.
“How much longer will you be at the store?”
“Shopping’s done. Just need to check out.”
“I’m going to be sitting here, my cheek pressed to the window, breathing through my nose so I don’t toss my cookies for another solid hour. Call me back once you’re home to continue this conversation.”
“Right.” My word’s not convincing. Not because I don’t want to learn the rules of his new game, but because…actually, I’m not sure why. I try again. “Sounds good. Expect my call in the next thirty minutes.” I don’t wait for a response, the shopping cart in motion as I hang up the phone. “Come on, Bean. Let’s check out and get home.”
“Who was that?” Her question comes out of left field. She’s usually not so involved in my phone calls. Although, I guess I don’t have many phone calls in front of her, my parents and Aunt Marsha being the exceptions.
