Page 151 of Cross Check

Lainey

For the record, there’s nothing wrong with sleeping with a guy the first night you meet him. If you want to end your drought tonight, maybe he will be happy to help.

Me

Thanks for the encouragement. I’m going with the pants, by the way.

Sienna

Have fun!

Lainey

Text us later!

The guy I matched with is an engineer named Bryson. Tall, never married, no kids. Said he plays on a beer league hockey team with some guys he went to college with.

Stanford, he wrote in our messages the other night. I love California in the spring.

I couldn’t lie about what I do for work; he recognized me right away. Was even bashful about it, admitting late last night that he was nervous to meet me because he’s a fan.

That should make me feel better about how tonight is going to go, but I’m still second-guessing myself on the Uber ride to the restaurant. By the time I hop out of the car, I think I’m making the world’s biggest mistake.

If you ever want to get over Grant, you have to do this, I tell myself. It’s been long enough.

“Amelia?”

I turn at the sound of my name, smiling at the man with dirty-blond hair and a collared shirt he paired with jeans. He answers me with a smile of his own and a bouquet of roses he extends my way.

“Hi,” I say.

“I’m Bryson,” he says, and I take the flowers out of his hold.

“It’s so nice to meet you. These are beautiful,” I answer.

“My mom always told me I’m not allowed to show up empty-handed to a first date. It was flowers or a hockey puck, and I figured you’d enjoy a night off from having to talk about work.”

“You figured correctly.” I laugh. My shoulders relax, and I clutch the flowers tight to my chest. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. I called and got a table on the back side of the restaurant. It has a nice view of the river,” he says.

“Sounds perfect.”

I let him put his hand on the small of my back as he holds the door open. A nice woman at the hostess stand offers to take our jackets, and we’re whisked off to a table covered in a white cloth with a candle in the middle.

“Do you have a side preference?” Bryson asks, gesturing to the two seats.

“Oh, no. Either one is fine.”

“Didn’t know if you wanted some space to slip out and run if things took a turn.”

“I have been known to be a runner.” I laugh again and pick the chair on the right so I can rest the flowers at the edge of the table against the wall. “You figured out my secret.”

“I was wondering if you were as fast on land as you are on the ice.” Bryson scoots his chair in, folding his hands in front of him. “I learned how to skate three years ago after being suckered into joining a beer league because they needed an extra player.”

“It’s hard to learn as an adult. It goes against everything we’ve been taught as far as walking goes, but it does get easier the longer you do it.”

“That’s what I was told.” He smiles. “I promise that’s the last hockey-related thing I’m going to say.”