Page 81 of How (Not) to Conjure a Boyfriend
“Zachary?” Hayden asks, and I can hear the surprise in his voice.
“Do you have another I don’t know about?” I ask while the bubbles are still going.
ZACHARY: Just wait.
I laugh and pocket my phone.
“No,” Hayden laughs with me. “What’s he want texting you?”
“Asking if you messed up yet,” I say truthfully, but spin a little toothy grin into it to hopefully make it seem like a joke.
“That checks out,” Hayden huffs.
Maybe it’ll also blow up in my face and give me an angry Hayden.
“So Duke is no problem, huh?” I ask instead to get us back on track. It comes out more condescending than I’d intended, but too late to take it back.
“Basketball is my thing. It’s what I thrive on. It’s what I’m good at,” he says. “And if I don’t get a scholarship, I’m sure Dad or Gramps will help me out.”
Something tickles my hand, and suddenly there are fingers wiggling between mine.Don’t pull away, Kenzie. Don’t do it.I should be excited. This should be thrilling. Hayden Marcus,theHayden Marcus, just chose, of his own free will, to hold my hand. Hayden Marcus, that tall athletic man of my dreams, the man that I practically drooled over for months and dreamt some pretty unspeakable things about is holding my hand…but it doesn’t feel right.
I remember another instead. The one who just texted.
Okay, so he’s Zach’s brother. Shouldn’t it be similar? Shouldn’t his hand have the same soft heat to it? Shouldn’t it send a thrill up my arm? Because it doesn’t. It’s more like an icky creepy tingle. What the hell am I doing? I put on a sweet but fake grin and bear it while we approach the restaurant in silence. Maybe he’ll be scared and let go before we get there.
I reach up and grab my amethyst bottle coyly to make it look like I find the hand-holding cute. Hopefully he doesn’t sense my intention being sent up to Freyja.
Please get me out of this, Freyja. I’m literally begging you.
This is getting too awkward. I don’t know what to say, and I’m getting the idea he doesn’t either.
We’re only a car length from our destination when he finally makes conversation again. I guess I could do it, I tend to talk enough, but I don’t really want to.
“You play any sports?” Hayden asks.
“Not really.” I shrug.
“Ah.” He looks at me with this weird grin. “I guess I already knew that, didn’t I?
“Huh? How?” I ask before thinking.
“From before.” Hayden steps ahead of me to get the door and waves for me to go in first. At least he’s a gentleman. “I’m sure I’ve asked you that before. It’s so weird.”
It’s warm in here, thank the gods. The lights are a little dim, but it’s a nice glow, and the fluorescent signs dotting the wall give it a more roadhouse feel. The hostess is waiting at a wooden podium when we shut the door. She’s tall—well, taller than me, which isn’t saying much—and standing with her hands set on the podium just out of sight. There’s a petite and ritzy look about her.
“Will it be two tonight?” She smiles at me, then Hayden, but the left side of her lips jumps when she finds Hayden.
“Uh, yes,” Hayden grumbles and swallows.
Is he nervous? Does she know him?
“Follow me,” she says, and we wind through mostly empty tables, past the bar.
“It’s not weird. Promise.” I pick our conversation back up as I slide into the booth the hostess stops at. “What’s weird is that you were in a coma.”
“You two have a good night. Your server will be here in a moment.” The hostess nods at Hayden and steps away.
He grins as she leaves, the nerves blossoming all over his face. Jealousy? No. Of course not. It can’t be. I wait until she’s out of earshot before talking again.
