17. Emergency Contact
EMERGENCY CONTACT
Fisher rounded a corner and skidded to a halt, arms windmilling to avoid an oncoming collision with an intersecting bicyclist. He bit back his angry words and checked his watch before launching back into a run, sprinting through a crowded crosswalk and kicking up dust on the pavement as he cut through the campus quad.
He’d promised Drie that he’d pick her up at noon, which meant he was already nine minutes late.
He’d spent months now—months—rebuilding that foundation.
They’d been making such good progress with the talks, the visit to his family…He’d thought he was on the right track. Until he’d lost his mind the night before. And now, when he was supposed to be explaining himself, making his case for why she should still trust him, he was fucking late.
If he had his way, he would have already gone full lizard and locked them both in that apartment for days on end.
But she’d explicitly asked for time. For friendship.
He wanted her to be secure in her feelings.
It had just been a moment of weakness the night before.
Fisher could keep his hands to himself. He would.
Even if it meant that he kept a little more distance on Thursdays for a while.
He was fine everywhere else. The park, the library, the diner—where they already should have been ordering, if he’d been on time.
For the past few weeks, he’d been picking her up for lunch a couple of days each week, taking her to the diner and quizzing her through lunch with the flash cards she had made from her class notes.
It made him feel useful, like he was contributing to her life in a meaningful way.
Proving himself a helpful asset, rather than just a distraction.
Which is what led to his current situation, hurdling a blanket on the quad that had two college students and their notes sprawled aimlessly across it.
“Dickhead! Watch it!” one of the girls shouted at his back as she grabbed the loose papers he’d sent flying.
“You’re sitting—on—a fucking—sidewalk—” He huffed over a shoulder, not bothering to slow down as he turned catty corner and crossed a smaller side street, narrowly avoiding getting mowed down in the bicycle lane in a very full-circle moment.
He might have stopped to apologize if he hadn’t finally caught sight of Drie, still standing by their meeting spot and laughing with a familiar, yeti-sized man.
Fisher’s adrenaline-addled brain was blaring mental sirens that made it difficult to think as he finally slowed to a jog. He checked his watch once more as he approached Drie. Fifteen minutes late. He frowned as he sucked down oxygen, trying to calm his breathing before she noticed him.
He had been trying so hard to build a fresh cornerstone for their relationship, but Maverick being present really drove home the consequence of letting himself slip. Fisher had lost her once by his own mistake, and he’d be damned if he did it a second time.
He pulled to a full stop, eyeing Maverick even as he hunched over his knees, trying not to pass out.
“Fisher? Were you being chased?” Drie’s wide eyes scanned the vicinity before landing back on his face, alarmed. “Do you need to sit down?”
He waved a hand at her. “Long…run…m’fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Where’s your car?”
“Tire…strip.”
“The strip is like, three miles from here,” Drie said slowly.
The silence stretched between them until Maverick spoke up. “Wait—is he saying he just ran three miles at a sprint with…” He paused to lean forward, looking pointedly at Fisher’s feet as his brows rose. “Those shoes on?”
Fisher glanced down at the brown dress shoes he wore for his shifts at the library, and then squinted at Maverick as he stood back up, despite the resistance of his spasming diaphragm. “What the hell’s wrong with my shoes?”
“Not a thing. And it’s nice to see you too, Iceberg.” Maverick smirked at the pink darkening his cheeks and double-tapped Drie’s shoulder with his fist. “Now that your iceman’s here, I’m gonna head out. Y’all kids have fun.”
He stared at Maverick’s retreating back. “He’s the worst.”
She laughed. “He grows on you.” Her eyes tightened as he attempted and failed to inconspicuously recover his composure. “Can you tell me why you were running? You know my car is on campus. I could have just come and gotten you if you’d texted me.”
“My phone got crushed at work.” He held up the device, spiderwebs snaking all over the screen. “I can see incoming messages, but I can’t use the touchscreen at all. I would’ve borrowed a phone to call, but I didn’t have your number memorized.”
“That sucks about your phone, but it still doesn’t explain the run.” Drie tilted her head to the side as she pursed her lips. “Did you abandon your car?”
“An older lady stopped, and I used her phone to Google the shop number. They’ve probably already got it by now, and I am never going to live down calling in backup for a flat.
” He rolled his eyes, the echoes of Pat’s laughter still ringing in his ears.
“I ran because I told you I’d be here. And in hindsight, I might have panicked.
Slightly. But I’m trying to prove to you that you can trust me again.
I thought maybe if you could trust the little things, like me showing up on time, that you’d one day be able to trust me with your love again. ”
“Fisher.” Drie smiled up at him softly, her eyes twinkling. “I do love you.”
He stared back at her, utterly gobsmacked. His thoughts scattered like seeds on the wind. Every game plan he’d mentally mapped did not account for the contingency of her saying that to him anywhere near this soon. She laid a hand on his cheek, making him start.
“Fisher, you’ve apologized to me. You’ve explained everything. You’ve spent months now showing up for me in every way possible. I believe you. And I trust you. You can relax. I’m not going anywhere.”
And then Drie stepped forward, raised up on her toes, and pressed her lips to Fisher’s jaw.
It was short and sweet, simply meant to drive home the point of what she was saying.
It wasn’t even in the same ballpark as the kisses they’d shared just the night prior.
And yet, his brain short-circuited, overwhelmed and not computing the changes as they occurred in real time.
“Wait a second,” he rasped, running his hands through his hair.
He stole a glance at her face and abruptly turned away, needing not to be distracted by her adorable freckles or the kissable lips she’d just teased him with.
He spun a 180 and started to pace, making it only two steps away from Drie before he slammed headfirst into a streetlight.
Drie gasped and jumped forward to catch him under the arm, helping him slide down to his knees, and then to his backside on the sidewalk, leaning back against the offending pole.
On the positive side, the collision served as a much-needed splash of cold water, but when his vision cleared, there were two beautiful Dries before him.
He could see that both of them were speaking, but the words were distant at first, like they were shouting underwater. “Fisher?! Can you hear me?”
“Yes.” He nodded, wincing when the movement made his head pound.
“Don’t move, you idiot,” Drie one and Drie two rudely harmonized, shining their phone flashlights in his eyes as he grunted at the brightness.
They were so close that he could smell the spearmint gum on their breath.
He missed the taste of her so viscerally.
After everything she had just said, if he was just able to figure out which one of her was real, he’d take the risk and kiss her.
A third Drie came into focus, and he huffed in annoyance.
“Stop multiplying.”
All three of them laughed. “I think you’ve got a minor concussion. We should get you checked out.”
Fisher relished her laugh, but he frowned when the moment was eclipsed by the memory of her laughing with another man just a few minutes past.
“What about Mav-a-rick?” The words felt thick—or his tongue did, he wasn’t entirely sure.
“What about him?” All three of them scrunched their brows in confusion as they scanned his sullen expression. “Is that why you left so quickly last night? You think something is going on? Maverick is just a friend.”
“No, no, no.” Fisher frowned. “I didn’t want to come on too strong.” He let his head fall back with a sigh, trying to make sense of everything that had been said while his brain struggled to fire back up. “Didn’t want to pressure you.”
Drie shook her head. “I wanted it. I wanted you. I’m ready.”
He blinked, incredulous. “Then why haven’t you said anything? I’m all in. I’m yours.” He glanced between each Drie before shutting his eyes. “Well, the three of yours.”
“Fisher…” Her voice was shaking with giggles. “I’m in no rush. I never was. I suppose I was just waiting for it to happen organically. Waiting for you to be ready.”
She was waiting for me?
He squinted one eye open, focusing on turning her back into one Drie so he could see her expression clearly. She looked happy. A little concerned over his current state, but happy nonetheless.
Well, it wasn’t the ideal circumstances, but he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.
“Drie Raven, will you go on a proper date with me?”
“Yes.” She flashed him a grin. “I’d really like that.”
“Right now?” Fisher asked as she helped him back to his feet, holding his elbow as he swayed.
“Right now…I am taking you to urgent care. And you’re not sending me away this time either.”
“Never.” He sighed, grateful for the little blessing that he wasn’t bleeding all over her scarf as she led him down the sidewalk in a curious moment of déjà vu. “This is not very romantic, but it’ll do,” he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and breathing in her shampoo.
“Hey, Drie,” he murmured once the urgent care building came into view.
“Yes?”
“Will you be my emergency contact?”
She giggled, holding his arm just a little bit tighter. “I’d be honored.”