Page 51 of The Striker
“Yeah. So, um …” I say at the same time.
He laughs, and I force myself to follow suit but it’s choppy and breathless. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice.
“Sorry.”
“No. You go ahead.”
I really don’t want to. I don’t want to mess everything up. Licking my lips, I try not to hunch my shoulders as I remind myself that I’m jumping the gun here. Wyatt hasn’t asked for a second date and there’s a chance that he won’t. While we were talking, he mentioned he was swamped with school and football. That’s why he hasn’t done a lot of dating this year. He’ll probablywant to keep this casual, too. Be friends, maybe. Friends would be nice. I could use more of those.
A phone rings, interrupting my train of thought, and I exhale a sigh of relief.
“Sorry.” Wyatt pats his jean pockets, shoving his hand into one and retrieving his phone. He glances down at his screen, a small frown on his face when he sees who’s calling.
Whoever they are, they obviously need to talk to him. It’s the third call he’s gotten since we arrived at The Wolf Den. I didn’t miss the calls before that he just silenced in his pocket without looking.
“Is it alright?— “
“Of course. Yes. I mean, you should answer that. It might be important.”
Some of the tension on his face eases, and he nods.
Good.
Maybe the interruption will give me time to think of something to say. I’m so awkward at these sorts of things now, and I hate it. I was never like this before.
But Wyatt seems nice. Heisnice. Different from the kind of guys I used to date. Though I guess he and Gabriel do have some similarities. They’re both athletes, both outgoing, but not overly arrogant.
So maybe he is my type. Wait. No. Gabriel was a one-off, right? Is he my type or were all the guys I dated before him my type? I don’t really know. Not that any of it matters. I don’t even know why I’m thinking about Gabriel right now.
“Thanks.” Wyatt offers me a sheepish grin and brings his phone to his ear, answering the call. “Hey, man. I’m on a date, so make it quick.”
He listens to the speaker for a moment, a small furrow forming between his brows. Reaching for my glass, I take a sip of water and survey the room.
“No. I can’t.” Wyatt huffs out a breath. “Dude, this is not the time.”
His mouth twists into a grimace, and he glances over at me in question, though I’m not sure what sort of response he expects from me.
“Fine.” Another pause. “Okay. I’ll swing by on my way home.” He grunts. “Whatever.”
Ending the call, he shoves his phone back in his pocket.
“Everything okay?” I ask, toying with my bracelet.
Taking a deep breath, he nods. “Yeah.”
“You sure?” He doesn’t seem like everything is okay.
Plastering a smile back on his face, he pulls out his wallet and throws several twenties down on the table. “All good. Are you ready?”
Oh. “Mm Hmm.” That’s one way to call an end to the date.
Wyatt leads me outside, holding the door open for me as we exit the restaurant. I follow him over to his truck where he once again opens the passenger side door for me, waiting until I’m buckled to close it and jog around to the other side.
“Sorry about the phone call,” he says, steering the truck onto the road.
“It’s fine, really.” I try to reassure him.
“No, it’s not.” He sighs and runs a hand through his light brown hair. “This isn’t how I wanted our date to end, with me rushing you home. It—” He shakes his head and keeps his eyes on the road.
