Page 64 of A Thousand Second Chances

Chris shakes his head. “No need. Leave it all to me.”

And now I’m evenmorenervous than I’d been before. I must be a goddamn idiot to be going along with this. It has future heartbreak written all over it. EvenifChris is interested in a lasting relationship, he deserves someone who isn’t such a mess. Someone who knows what they want and isn’t terrified to admit it.

The rest of breakfast passes with idle chit-chat before we go put in our token appearance to Oshkoff. Though we still sneak out some days, the memory of her lecture from that first loop haunts me, and I’d convinced Chris to use a cover story eachday to get us out of the regularly scheduled events. By now, we’ve gotten pretty good at faking illness, especially when we can count on Quinn to hop unprompted to our defense.

My nerves leave me an anxiety-ridden mess for the rest of the day. We spend it together, of course, opting to keep things relatively light as we explore more of downtown. Honestly, considering how tiny Mackinac Island is, I’m impressed we’re still discovering new locations to check out.

Not that either of us expects to uncover anything insidious at this point. I find myself watching Chris more than our environment, admiring the little wrinkle he gets in the center of his forehead whenever he’s frustrated. Or the hidden hint of green that shimmers in his expressive eyes when something catches his interest. Or how his full lips turn up at the corners in those rare moments his perpetual scowl shifts to a smile.

Usually, I’d try to tamp down my feelings in order to maintain some semblance of distance, but today, I allow myself to imagine what it would feel like to be here with him—trulywithhim. To be able to wrap a hand around his waist in public and tug him close. To grab his hand while walking down a tourist-choked street without even thinking about it. To press a firm kiss to his lips in front of everyone and claim him as my own.

If Chris notices the heat of my attention, he doesn’t let on. But I don’t think it’s my imagination that his eyes linger on me as well with a warmth they haven’t possessed before. At least, not for the last two years.

I ignore my dad’s texts all day, feeling only a tiny twinge of guilt. Chris is right—I need to stop worrying so much about others and live a little for me. If I can’t do that in a make-believe dream world with zero stakes, when the hellcanI?

As the afternoon light fades and the island goes dark, my anxiety begins to get the better of me. Chris kept insisting throughout the day to leave our pseudo-date to him until Irelented. Now, I regret not pressing him for more details so I could at least mentally prepare.

We return to the Royal Lilac to change, and after greeting Carol and getting snubbed by Owen, I freshen up as best I can. I spend entirely too long agonizing over my choice of shirt and pants—Chris hadn’t given me any clues about a dress code—before opting for my nicer pair of slacks and a button-down. I’m glad I did when I emerge to find Chris similarly dressed.

He grins when he sees me, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Ready to go?”

I nod. If Chris is dealing with the same nerves as me, he’s hiding it much better. But then again, this washisidea, and he’d made it perfectly clear this is about satisfying the time loop on the off chance it cares about a college fling.

It’s not like this is arealdate.

I try to convince myself of that the entire walk to downtown. Chris is silent beside me, leaving me to my thoughts. Or maybe he’s simply reacting to the waves of anxiety pouring off me like sweat.

God, this is going to be such a disaster.

Chris stops outside a restaurant we haven’t visited in any of our previous cycles. Situated on a slight rise with a fantastic view of Lake Huron, Huron Blue is the sort of place evenmyfamily would balk at. The kind of place where they don’t bother putting prices on the menu because if you have to ask, you probably can’t afford it.

“Here?” I ask.

Chris raises a brow. “What, you think the working-class kid wouldn’t be caught dead in a swanky restaurant like this?”

“N-no. It’s just…not what I was expecting. We never went anywhere like this before.”

I’d meantbefore, as in during our past time loops, but Chris smiles tightly and replies, “Well, we also crashed and burnedbefore, so I’m not sure our past relationship should be the metric we use.”

“Fair point.” I gesture awkwardly toward the double glass doors at the front. “Lead the way.”

The inside is as decadent as I’d assumed, lit mostly by candles and full of local art that, unlike Casa Nostra, manages to look chic instead of kitschy. Chris must have a reservation because he talks to the maître d’, who leads us through the restaurant to a back patio open to the air. Several portable heaters scattered about the space fight back the autumn chill. Our table sits near the patio’s edge, with a spectacular view of the lake and the twinkling lights of the mainland in the distance.

“Wow,” I breathe, taking it all in.

The maître d’ smiles, eyes flicking between us. “A stunning view, yes? Very romantic. You boys enjoy your dinner. Your server will be with you shortly.”

He winks—literallywinks—and I blush. It occurs to me then what this must look like, the two of us dressed up and dining together at a place like this. I open my mouth to correct him, to explain we’re only friends…but stop myself just in time, swallowing down the words. After all, thisisexactly what it looks like, isn’t it? Plus, time loop or not, it’s not like we’ll ever see him again. There’s no harm in letting him think what he wants, no matter how unsettled his assumption makes me.

The maître d’ departs, and I notice Chris watching me with narrowed eyes. Can he tell what I’d been thinking? I occupy myself by gulping down some water.

An awkward silence stretches between us.

“Um,” I eventually say with a nervous chuckle. “Now what?”

Chris fiddles with his silverware. As usual, he needs something to do with his hands. The thought—and the image it conjures—sends a shiver of heat through me.

“I guess we get to know each other. That’s what people typically do on first dates, right?”