18. 18 Parker
18
18 PARKER
DAMN, I WISH I WAS YOUR LOVER
“You still doing okay?”
I smiled up at the waiter, balling my hands into fists to keep from fidgeting with the roll of silverware before me. “Yeah,” I said, my voice pitched too high. “I’m great!”
He quirked a bushy gray brow, but returned my smile, kindly keeping any thoughts to the contrary to himself. “All right then. You be sure to let me know if you need anything.”
I nodded too enthusiastically, breathing a sigh of relief when he walked away. Then, for the thousandth time in the last twenty minutes, I stared at the front door and willed it to open.
Gigi told me she’d meet me here, at Shrimpy Dick’s, once she finished up at the bar. Sometime around three, she said. Flipping my phone over, I tapped the screen. It lit to reveal a selfie of Anya and I from when I joined her on the road last year, and the time. 3:10. Gah. My stomach was knotted more than a bag of unspooled yarn.
I took a deep breath in and looked toward the door. Again. I shouldn’t have asked for her help. I shouldn’t have bothered her. She’d done enough. But when Halle asked me…
Exhaling, I fixed my gaze on the whorls and lines of the table before me. Maybe she changed her mind. I wouldn’t blame her, not for a second. She’d had a long night and probably wanted to go home and sleep. Probably didn’t want to talk me through yet another one of my—
“Sorry.” Gigi plopped down in the seat across from me and shrugged out of her jacket. “Was going over some closing things with Dante.”
“Oh, yeah.” I ignored the relief melting through me at seeing her face. “I noticed he was behind the bar tonight.”
She flashed a smile. “Shuffling things around a bit,” she said, pulling a menu closer. “He’s doing great.”
“That’s so good!” I tucked my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting. “I think he’s going to be so good.”
Gigi glanced up, eyebrow cocked. “You know what else is so good ?” Placing the menu flat in front of her, she leaned her elbows on it and looked me square in the eye. “Telling me what this huge favor you need is.”
An awkward laugh slipped passed my lips. Welp. We were doing this.
“I mean, I don’t think I said it was huge . In fact, it’s a pretty small favor. Minuscule, really. It—”
“Parker.”
“Okay. Fine.” I exhaled, quick and brisk. Then gulped in another breath, releasing a string of syllables and sounds before I could chicken out. “HalleaskedmeoutandIdon’tknowwhattodonext.”
Gigi leaned closer, eyes narrowed. “You wanna run that by me again. Slower this time?”
My fingers twisted together in my lap and I stared at them to avoid Gigi’s intense eyes. “Halle asked me out,” I repeated, my brain barely absorbing the words. Even though I was there. I was there when it happened. Yet I still couldn’t believe it. “Tonight. After Anya dragged me across the bar to say hi.”
And you stood there and watched.
Gigi’s eyes narrowed, as if she could hear my unspoken words. She didn’t reply, though. Not immediately. Sitting back in her seat, she folded her hands on the table. “Well,” she started, her thumb spinning the ring she wore on her index finger. “That’s good, right? It’s what you wanted.”
“Yes.” The word came quickly. And it didn’t taste like pure truth. I took a gulp from the glass of ice water beside me. “Yes, it is. For sure. What I wanted.”
Wasn’t it?
My brain called up the conversation from hours before. Halle’s hand on my arm, laughing at something I said. Me, blushing like a schoolgirl. Her, telling me how cute it was. Me, blushing harder.
Kind of like now.
Putting my hand to my cheek, I winced. I was ridiculous.
“So, mission accomplished.” Gigi picked up her menu again, studying it intently. “What’re we doing here, then?”
“What comes next?” I leaned forward, heart in my throat, palms flat on the table.
Her head shot up, her eyes flashed. “What do you mean? You got her attention. She asked you out.” Returning her focus back to the menu in her hand, she repeated, “Mission accomplished.”
“But,” I persisted. Didn’t she see? Didn’t she understand what a mess I was? How badly I still needed her help? “What about after? What comes next?”
“Listen, Parker.” She put her menu down, fingertips hovering over the glossy surface. The coolness in her tone, the neutrality on her face, said everything she hadn’t voiced yet.
I forged ahead as if I didn’t know where this was going. “We’re having dinner tomorrow. I don’t want to screw it up.”
Her dark eyes assessed me, from my tense posture to my pleading eyes, lingering on the single curl that had fallen over my shoulder. Shaking her head, she sat back in her seat. “You’re not going to screw it up.” There was a confidence in her tone that I did not feel within myself. “I saw you two talking. She’s into you. You got this.”
Then why did I feel like I was going to throw up every time I thought about meeting Halle at Casa de Queso tomorrow night? Why did the thought of sitting across from her, sharing anecdotes and tacos with her, fill me with anxiety?
Why did thinking about whatever would happen next send panic sling-shotting through my veins?
I wrung my hands together and willed my pulse to slow. Gigi reclaimed her menu, studying it so casually, as if my entire romantic future wasn’t hanging in the balance. As if I didn’t stand on the precipice of complete and total humiliation. As if…as if she didn’t care.
That last thought was an iron fist to the stomach. Sinking back, I nodded, resignation dropping my shoulders. “Okay.”
Gigi looked up from her menu and stared at me for a long, long moment. Her dark eyes were unreadable, her face impassive. The diner’s fluorescent light caught the glimmers of orange in her hair, the specks of gold in her eyes.
Why are you doing this? a voice in the back of my mind asked. Why do you keep coming back to her?
The answer was a whisper in my bones, a skittering of my pulse. The answer was something I couldn’t yet define and wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Even still, it kept me seeking her out, even as everything I’d wanted for the last few months was right at my fingertips.
“What can I get for you two tonight?”
I started with a gasp, straightening in my seat.
“Sorry,” our waiter said, a kind smile crinkling his eyes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Gigi cover her smirk with the menu. “No, no. It’s okay. I just…scare easy.” Grabbing for my menu, I thrust it in front of my face, cheeks burning.
“I think we need a minute,” Gigi said to the waiter as I tried to make sense of the dancing letters before me. “Thank you.”
As soon as the waiter was gone, three gleaming black fingernails curved over the top of my menu, yanking it from my hands to reveal an unsmiling Gigi.
“All right,” she said in an all-business tone I’d never heard before. “You win.” She put both our menus on the table between us in a neat stack. “One practice date.”
My heart leapt, wringing a gasp from me. “Oh, thank you! I—”
She held up a finger. I pressed my lips together and waited for her to continue. “But,” she said, “this is it. No more lessons after this. Not even a sliver of romantic advice. After tonight, you’re on your own, kid.”
There was probably a logical reason for my reaction. Probably, I could explain away the hot disappointment that clashed with the bright excitement to create a cyclone of contradiction inside me. But instead of spending these precious seconds self-analyzing, I tucked it all away for later and nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
I nodded again, throat tight. My eyes met hers, and something flashed in the warm brown depths that seemed to echo my own unrecognizable feelings. She looked me over slowly, as if cataloging my every feature, and suddenly I was back there. In my kitchen last week. I could feel it—her nose brushing mine, her lips so close her breath kissed my skin.
My breath faltered. My pulse pounded. My—
“You two about ready to order?”
“Shoot,” I hissed, jumping so hard my teeth clattered.
Across from me, Gigi snorted. I couldn’t even muster a glare.
“We’ll both have the pancake breakfast,” she told the waiter, handing the menus to him. “And can I get an apple juice, please?”
“You got it.” He smiled an apology before walking away.
“Why are you so jumpy tonight?” Gigi asked once he was out of earshot. She spun to rest her back against the wall, legs stretched out before her. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes and sighed. “This is a diner, not a haunted house.”
“I’m not jumpy,” I said, glad she couldn’t see the flush that crept over my face as the lie tumbled from me.
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, her lips tilting up at a corner. “Tell me another lie.”
I’m super excited about my date with Halle and don’t at all wish it was with you instead.
The thought floated through my brain like a heavy gray cloud, raining right on my parade. Squeezing my eyes shut, I dropped my head into my folded arms. When had this happened? How had I let it happen? Did I seriously go from one delusion to another? Just when the first stood a chance at becoming reality?
A groan slipped past my lips before I could stop it. I winced and lifted my head enough to see if Gigi had heard. Which…she was two feet away. Of course she heard. But a girl could hope?
“You all right, Samuels?”
I faceplanted into my arms again, another groan leaving me. I was a mess. The biggest mess. There was no one messier than me, I was sure of it. "I'm fine," I said, words muffled.
"Uh huh." I felt Gigi shift across from me, and then my hair moved away from my face. I opened an eye to find her peering at me, a lethal blend of confusion and concern on her face. Her perfect, freckle-kissed face. "When I said to tell me another lie, I was being sarcastic."
"Yeah, well." I sat up and shook my hair away from my face. "You should've been clearer."
A laugh shot out of her. She pulled a leg up and rested her elbow on it. "Talk to me," she said, cocking her head. "What's got you so twisted up? Really."
I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut again. The truth was there. On the tip of my tongue. But I couldn't just... say it, could I?
Who was I kidding? It was me. Of course I couldn't say it. That was what got me here in the first place, wasn't it? The fact that I couldn't talk to someone I liked?
But I was talking to someone I liked.
The realization did nothing for the anxiety rolling through me. In fact, I was pretty sure it made it worse.
"Well?"
My eyes flew to Gigi, who was still waiting for an answer I didn't know how to give. "I, um," I started, hiding my hands under the table so she couldn't see my fidgeting. "I..."
"The date's gonna be so good." She dropped her feet to the floor and faced me. "You're awesome, Halle's awesome. You two are gonna have a great time."
I nodded, stomach sinking low in my belly. It was so casual, the way she talked about my date with someone else. As if those moments in my kitchen had never happened. As if I was the only one still thinking about last week.
Maybe I was. Maybe she’d slept fine this last week, unhaunted by memories and what-ifs and almosts. Maybe, for her, I’d been just another girl pulled in by her charm. Charm that hadn’t even been real.
It was all pretend, I reminded myself. Of course it wasn’t real.
Straightening my spine, I forced a smile onto my face. "Yeah." I traced over her face, and I ignored the chill hand of regret cupping my heart. "I'm sure we will."
She smiled back. Unfazed and unaware. "Now that we've established that," she said as she rested her chin in her hand and leaned in. "Pretend date starts...now.”