Chapter 7 — Lena #2
The fries arrived quickly, a mountain of cheese, bacon, scallions, and sour cream that looked like every nutrition class on campus had failed.
Carter slid the plate between them.
“Peace offering,” he said.
Her fingers stilled near the fork.
Carter looked down at the plate. “I know tonight is a date, and I know we said trying, and I know maybe first dates are supposed to be light. But I also know I don’t want you sitting across from me wondering whether I’m going to turn into the guy you’re afraid I am.”
Lena’s chest tightened.
“Carter—”
“I don’t want to give you some dramatic list of every girl I ever flirted with or kissed or disappointed. That feels gross and also extremely unhelpful before fries.”
His mouth curved, but his eyes stayed serious.
“But I do want to say I know why you’re cautious,” he said. “And I’m not offended by it. You’re allowed to take your time believing me.”
Lena looked at him across the booth.
This was not the Carter she had expected when she first got assigned to the fundraiser.
That Carter would have made the whole diner laugh.
This Carter was giving her his honesty in pieces, like he knew he could not ask her to hold too much at once.
She reached for a fry because she needed a second.
Also because the fries smelled incredible.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For the emotional maturity or the fries?”
“Both.”
“Excellent. I contain multitudes.”
Then, because he had been honest, she tried too.
“I’m cautious because I don’t like feeling out of control,” she said. “And you make me feel…”
She trailed off.
Carter leaned in slightly. “Like committing campus crimes?”
“Like I can’t predict myself.”
His expression softened.
“I know that sounds dramatic,” she said.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It does.”
“It sounds like you.”
She frowned. “Predictable?”
“Careful.” He paused. “And brave when you decide something is worth it.”
That went straight through her.
Lena looked down quickly.
The fundraiser total, which had climbed even higher after final online donations.
Mason’s dunk tank tragedy.
Paige, who Carter described as “terrifying by association” after Lena told him about the interrogation.
Carter’s family, carefully at first. His parents lived two hours away, came to games when they could, and had been proud in a way that made him uncomfortable when he sent them the fundraiser photo Denise had posted.
Lena’s family, who were kind and close and still called her every Sunday night, usually to ask if she was eating enough and whether she was “overdoing it again.”
“You?” Carter said, stealing a fry. “Overdoing it? Hard to imagine.”
She pointed her fork at him. “I did not invite you here to be attacked.”
“You didn’t invite me. I invited you.”
“And I can still leave.”
“With half the fries?”
His eyes narrowed. “This relationship just got serious.”
Lena froze.
He set his fork down slowly. “Too much?”
But not nothing.
She swallowed.
“No,” she said, surprising herself.
His eyes warmed.
“No?” he asked.
Carter’s gaze dipped to her mouth, then came back up.
Lena’s pulse jumped.
He smiled faintly. “I am trying very hard to behave in this family restaurant.”
“Rosie’s is not a family restaurant after nine p.m.”
“It is seven forty.”
“Then keep trying.”
His laugh was low. “Bossy.”
“Apparently you like that.”
“Apparently I like you.”
Lena’s breath caught.
Carter watched her with a little vulnerability at the edges of his smile.
“I like you too,” she said.
Just two people holding hands across a diner booth, telling the truth in small pieces, letting the risk become real without running from it.
After dinner, Carter paid despite her protest, then immediately let her buy them two coffees from the counter “for balance,” which she appreciated.
This time, she did not hesitate.
“So,” she said, “what is the mostly safe part of the plan?”
He grinned. “You’ll see.”
“You enjoy being annoying.”
They walked two blocks past Rosie’s to a small public park beside campus. During the day, it was full of students reading on blankets or pretending to study. At night, strings of lights wrapped around the trees, and a small paved area near the gazebo was sometimes used for campus events.
Tonight, a group of students had set up a portable speaker near the gazebo.
Lena stopped.
Carter looked at her, suddenly less cocky. “Okay, before you panic—”
“I’m not panicking.”
“You have the face.”
“What face?”
“The I-am-about-to-file-a-formal-objection face.”
“I do not have that face.”
No.
Probably.
“I don’t dance,” she said.
“Ever?”
“Not where people can see me.”
“Good news. It’s dark, and most of these people are looking at their own bad decisions.”
“Carter.”
He stepped in front of her, still holding her hand. “Veto is available.”
She glanced toward the gazebo.
Then back at him.
“Are you good at dancing?”
“No.”
“You planned a dancing date and you’re bad at dancing?”
“I planned a risk.”
Her breath caught.
His thumb brushed over her hand.
“Small one,” he said. “Public. Safe. Veto-able.”
She laughed quietly. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m trying.”
That word again.
Lena looked at the lights.
She knew that now.
Maybe that was why she wanted to say yes.
“One song,” she said.
“One,” she repeated.
“Obviously.”
“If you spin me, I leave.”
“No spins.”
“If Mason appears, I leave.”
“If Mason appears, I also leave.”
Carter led her to the edge of the paved area, then turned to face her.
Lena laughed.
Carter looked offended. “Do not mock the process.”
“I thought hockey players had coordination.”
“On ice. This is land.”
“You walk on land every day.”
Carter placed one hand carefully at her waist, the other holding hers.
It was perfect.
Carter’s hand was warm through her sweater. His eyes stayed on hers, softer than the music, and the park lights blurred around them.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Want me to stop?”
His smile touched her heart.
“Good,” he said. “Because I was going to miss your foot.”
“You haven’t stepped on me yet.”
Every now and then, Carter’s knee bumped hers. Once, he did step on her foot lightly, and he looked so horrified that she burst out laughing.
“I knew land would betray me,” he said.
“You’re doing fine.”
“Your fine or my fine?”
Carter noticed.
His brows lifted slightly.
“One song?” he asked.
“I’m monitoring conditions.”
“Very official.”
“Shut up and sway.”
Carter’s gaze dropped to her mouth again.
Her pulse answered.
“You keep doing that,” she whispered.
“Looking at your mouth?”
“We’re in public.”
“Barely.”
“You said that last night.”
She looked around. A few couples danced nearby. Students walked along the park path. Nobody seemed to care about them.
Still.
“This is dangerous,” she said.
Carter leaned closer, voice low. “Veto-able.”
Her fingers slid from his shoulder to the back of his neck.
His breath caught.
“I’m not vetoing,” she whispered.
Carter kissed her under the park lights in front of the world like he had every right to want her and every intention of being careful with that want.
Her body leaned into his, her hand curling at the back of his neck, her mouth opening softly under his. Carter’s arm wrapped more securely around her waist, and he pulled her closer, still moving faintly with the music.
Carter’s forehead rested against hers.
“I am very bad at behaving in parks,” he murmured.
She laughed softly. “You’re doing okay.”
“Your okay or my okay?”
Tender enough that it made her chest ache.
When the song ended, they stepped back but stayed hand in hand.
Lena looked down at their fingers.
No regret.
Just Carter looking at her like she was something he wanted to keep choosing.
“This was a good risk,” she said.
He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles.
It was so casually sweet that it nearly wrecked her more than the actual kiss.
“I’m glad,” he said.
They walked back toward campus slowly, coffees forgotten and cold in their cups.
At the edge of the park, Carter stopped.
Lena looked up. “What?”
Carter Hayes hesitating.
“I don’t want the date to end,” he said.
“Me neither.”
His relief was immediate.
“But,” she added, “it probably should.”
He nodded. “Yeah. Slow.”
It felt like more than one evening had passed.
Carter looked down at her. “Can I ask you something?”
His thumb moved over her knuckles. “Second date?”
Lena pretended to consider.
His eyes narrowed. “Cruel.”
He blinked. “Really?”
“If you’re free.”
“I will become free.”
“I will remain responsibly scheduled and then become free.”
Her back brushed the dorm wall.
“I want to kiss you goodnight,” he said.
“You’ve done that several times.”
“Not on a real first date.”
Her stomach flipped.
“Then you probably should.”
Lena let herself sink into it for a moment, let herself memorize the warmth of his hand at her cheek, the gentle pressure of his mouth, the way he kissed her like he had all the time in the world and still hated stopping.
Of course.
She sat in one of the chairs with a textbook open upside down in her lap.
Lena stopped. “Seriously?”
Paige looked her over, then grinned. “You have been kissed.”
“I live with a detective.”
“You live with a friend who knows when your lipstick has suffered a natural disaster.”
Lena touched her mouth, horrified.
Paige laughed. “Relax. You look happy.”
Carter was walking away, hands in his pockets, but just before he reached the corner, he turned back.
Carter: Best risk I’ve taken in a while.
Lena smiled so hard it hurt.
Paige sighed dramatically. “Disgusting.”