1. Avery #2
I sigh, scanning the room one last time before letting her drag me toward an empty table. “This is going to be a disaster,” I mutter under my breath.
“Only if you make it one,” she whispers back, grinning.
I sit down at the small table, the flickering candle in front of me doing its best to look romantic. Next to the candle, there’s a timer, its little button waiting to unleash five minutes of pure awkwardness.
I glance at Cassy, who’s already making herself at home at a table across the room, tossing her hair and laughing at some poor guy’s joke. Classic Cassy is effortlessly charming while I’m over here preparing for social combat.
I barely have time to straighten my name tag when my first date approaches. He’s… well, a character, to say the least. He’s a big guy with muscles straining against a shirt that might’ve been white once but now has a permanent grease stain.
His hands are rough, his nails dirty, and there’s a tattoo of a rifle snaking up the side of his neck. A mechanic maybe? Or someone auditioning for the lead in a gritty steroid advertisement?
He sits down, grinning at me with a confidence I don’t feel in the slightest. Just as he opens his mouth, I hold up a hand. “Uh-uh.” I tap the timer. The ticking starts, and so does he.
“So,” he leans forward with an enthusiasm that catches me off guard. “I’ve got a pickup truck. Not just any truck—a 6.2-liter V8 with 420 horsepower. She’s a beast. You into trucks?”
I blink. “Uh, not really…”
He doesn’t seem to hear me. “I’ve also got three dogs. Two German shepherds and a mutt I picked up at the shelter. Great guard dogs. They’d love you.”
Love me? We’ve known each other for forty-seven seconds.
“So, what’s your perfect night out?” he asks, his eyes sparkling like this is the question that’ll seal the deal.
“Certainly not this,” I almost blurt out but manage to bite my tongue. Instead, I give him a polite smile and mumble something about liking quiet nights with good food and a book.
My attention drifts before he even responds, my thoughts wandering to Gray. He just pops into my head out of nowhere—like some uninvited guest at this disaster of an event.
I can still picture him from earlier. Broad shoulders, that same intense stare, sharp jawline, and cleft in his chin. If anything, he looks better now than when I was a teenager.
Back then, I was a lovesick puppy whenever my brother Jake brought him over. But Gray? He never even noticed me.
“...and I make a mean rump steak,” the guy across from me is saying, snapping me back to reality just as the buzzer goes off.
Great. Saved by the bell.
I force a polite smile. “Thanks for sharing,” I say, standing up and grabbing my bag like it’s a life raft. As I turn, my gaze lands on Cassy. She’s already holding the hand of the guy sitting across from her, giggling like they’ve known each other forever. I can’t help but smile. Classic Cassy.
I shuffle to the next table, plop down, and am immediately greeted by another round of awkward introductions. This one doesn’t go any better. By the time Cassy appears at my side, dragging a tall, dark-haired guy with her, I’m ready to wave the white flag.
“Avery, meet Logan.” Cassy’s grinning as if she’s discovered the cure for my misery.
Logan seems nice enough—polite smile, decent haircut, no visible neck tattoos. But before I can even process this new development, Cassy grabs my arm. “Come on, you need a drink. Or three.”
I don’t argue. We head to the bar, where she orders a bottle of wine. As we pour the first glass, Logan excuses himself to use the bathroom, and Cassy, naturally, follows.
Left alone, I sip my wine, my thoughts circling back to Gray.
By the time I’m on my second glass, Cassy and Logan reappear, both looking a bit disheveled. Cassy’s hair is a mess, her lipstick smudged, and she’s wearing the kind of smile that says, ‘Don’t ask questions.’
“Everything okay?” I ask dryly, raising an eyebrow.
“Better than okay,” she says, grabbing her glass and downing it in one gulp.
A few more boring rounds of speed dating later, I can’t wait to leave. Logan offers to drive us home, mentioning that he and Cassy are heading back to her place after.
Outside, the rain has almost stopped and is now just an annoying drizzle.
Making our way to his car, I lean closer to Cassy and whisper, “Do me a favor and be careful. You don’t know who this guy is.”
She whispers back with a wink, “Don’t worry, Avery, I will. But hopefully, after tonight, I’ll know everything about him.” Then she nudges me in the ribs, and I look skyward.
Logan unlocks the car, and Cassy slides into the front seat like she owns it. I climb into the back, leaning my head against the window as the drizzle blurs the city lights.
The drive isn’t long before I’m watching the distorted view of April Street as we turn into it. Dimly lit houses sit in neat, quiet rows, their windows glowing faintly against the dark.
The trees lining the street sway gently under the weight of the rain, their branches dripping onto the pavement below. The tapping of the drizzle on the car roof creates a kind of hypnotic rhythm that makes my eyelids feel heavier than they should.
Cassy leans forward, pointing. “Just here. The house on the right.”
Logan slows the car to a stop and pulls up to the curb. He turns slightly in his seat, flashing a polite smile. “It was nice meeting you, Avery.”
“Thanks for the lift,” I manage a small smile back. “It was nice meeting you too.”
Before I can move, Cassy’s hand snakes back from the front seat, giving my leg a quick squeeze. “Call me."
“I will,” I promise, opening the door. “And remember what I said.”
She turns around and winks at me, and I step out into the drizzle, shutting the door behind me. Logan’s car pulls away slowly, the red taillights glowing in the wet street. I stand for a moment, watching them disappear around the corner, before striding toward the house.
I make my way across the wet pavement to the small path dividing the driveway and front lawn. Passing my Dad’s car, I glance at the hood—still damp from the rain—and tiptoe toward the front door.
Okay, so I’m kind of living with my father at the moment.
But it’s just temporary. I had my own place up to a couple of days ago.
Everything was great, but once my landlord, Eugene Bryce, decided it would be a good idea to nearly double the rent, I decided it would be an even better idea to move out.
So… once he’s given me my deposit back on the weekend like he said he would, and I’ve saved enough money, I’ll rent my own place again. That’s the plan, anyway.
I used to work at Dad’s bookstore in town which was my safe haven, a place where I could get lost in books for hours.
But it had been struggling for years, crushed under the weight of online competition.
When it finally closed at the beginning of last month, I took whatever job I could find—anything to stay afloat.
Determined not to be completely penniless, I immersed myself in an intensive course in childcare, learning CPR and First Aid at Evergreen Nannies.
Not exactly the glamorous writer’s life I’d envisioned when I majored in Creative Writing in college, but hey, we all have to start somewhere.
As I dig out my keys, I can’t help but let my mind wander to one of my many stories in progress.
Victoria has just returned home from a long business trip in Chicago.
She’s exhausted, but there’s a warmth in her chest because she knows Michael is waiting for her upstairs.
She imagines him sitting on the edge of their bed, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at what’s underneath.
Her pulse quickens as she climbs the stairs, her anticipation building with each step—
I blink, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up my neck.
Get a grip, Avery.
Sliding the key into the lock, I push open the door and step inside, my fantasy bursting like a bubble as the sound of Dad’s loud, echoing snores from the living room.
Of course.
I kick off my shoes and shrug off my coat, hanging it quietly by the door. Making my way upstairs, I tread carefully to avoid the creaky steps.
Flicking on the small side lamp next to my bed, its warm light fills the room and bounces off the stacks of books and notepads cluttering my dresser. This space screams temporary, but it’s all I’ve got for now.
Peeling off my damp clothes, I shiver as the cool air kisses my skin. The rain-soaked fabric clings stubbornly to me, making it more of a workout than it should be.
My body is all too aware of the evening’s tension, and for the millionth time tonight, Gray’s face flashes in my mind.
That jawline, those piercing eyes… It’s been so long since I last saw him, and of course, like the walking disaster I am, I managed to sit down in front of him looking a total mess. In the wrong freaking place.
Smooth move, Avery. Real smooth!
Standing in just my underwear, I reach behind my back to unhook my bra. As it slides off, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the dresser.
My hair is a mess, my skin is flushed, and my expression? Equal parts exasperated and wistful.
What a ten-carat klutz you really are, Avery.
I’m about to collapse into bed and put this whole bizarre night behind me when a memory tugs at the edges of my mind.
I freeze, one leg halfway under the blanket, as I think back to when I was eighteen.
Back then, I’d spend hours scribbling made-up stories for my so-called novel.
Stories about him. The pull of curiosity is stronger than my exhaustion, and before I can second-guess myself, I’m sliding off the bed and onto the floor.
I reach under the bed, feeling around until my fingers brush against something solid. A small, old wooden box.
I drag it out and sit back on my heels, staring at it as a slow smile creeps across my face. It’s been years since I even thought about this thing, let alone opened it.