“You got that right. Sometimes I sneak off to eat my lunch in the supply closet just for a few minutes of quiet from the small humans’ endless questions.”
I smile. He’s funny.
As the trail bends and begins to rise, I feel the burn in my glutes. There’s something satisfying about going to bed physically exhausted from a hike instead of mentally drained from work.
“Hey, I was wondering,” Tom says casually. “You got any plans tonight?”
My brow lifts. He’s asking me on a date? “Grace and I booked that new Turkish restaurant everyone’s raving about.”
His face drops a notch, disappointment washing over it. “Ah, that’s cool.”
Cue Grace, subtlety of a foghorn. “You know, I’d rather we hit the Turkish joint tomorrow,” she declares, volume cranked high. “I feel like sitting in. Lexi’s night is wide open.”
“Grace, you’re visiting. I can’t just ditch you.”
“Maybe Iwantto read a book in the bath for hours.”
My eyes can’t roll hard enough.
She throws Tom a look that might as well be a flashing neon sign:Ball’s in Your Court, Buddy.
I might strangle her for this.
Heat creeps into my cheeks.
“Fancy a drink then, Lexi?” Tom asks with an easy grin.
“Yeah, sure, I could do a quick one,” I say, still catching my breath from the hike—and maybe the whole situation. If he’s into this sweaty, makeup-free mess in front of him, then I’m counting it as a pretty big compliment.
Grabbing a drink with him sounds really nice.
Who knows, maybe Grace was on to something with her whole “you’ll shack up with a teacher” prediction. This could be step one. It’s nice. He’s nice. I might actually shave my legs for it.
“We could catch a movie too if you get bored with me,” Tom jokes. “NewFast and Furiousis out, if you’re into that.”
I momentarily stiffen. Absolutely fucking not.
Blaming Vin Diesel for triggering flashbacks of Deano and Connor isn’t rational, but tell that to my heart.
Unwanted memories and feelings bubble up, threatening to spoil the moment, that I quickly tamp down.
Memories threatening to escape their mind box.
Memories potent enough to send me into an ugly-crying session if I let them take hold.
“Maybe,” I toss back, keeping it breezy. No need to come across as too fussy by dismissing the idea outright. I don’t want him to think I’m some kind of movie snob.
My first date with a nice guy. Here’s to fresh starts.
“Are you happy now, Lexi?” Grace probes as we wrap up the hike, her eyes scanning my face.
“Absolutely!” I respond, a bit too enthusiastically, maybe. “That route was killer, in the best way.”
She hums that sound, the one that says she’s buying it, but just barely.
And it’s true—I am happy. Content at least.
The kind of ‘content’ that almost lets you sleep through the night, without jolting awake in a cold sweat, haunted by the ghosts of relationships past.
