So, I texted again. Short, to the point, maybe a bit desperate.Hey, baby. Not my best work. Followed by:You busy today?I miss those lips. And just to be sure she got it:I miss the way yousay my name, your touch, that damn hair.And finally,Can I see you?
Silence.
No response.
I wasn't the type to keep checking my phone, to leave it on the table at lunch just to catch a glimpse of her name. Yet, here I was, sliding into a sticky booth with my two best friends, my phone perched by my elbow.
Rowan and Ryder were now deep in debate about taco fillings—Rowan advocating for purity, Ryder insisting on setting his taste buds ablaze with the hottest peppers available.
I stared at my phone again, its screen mocking me with silence. The murmur of their voices faded into the background, a dull hum in my ears, until it took a few beats for me to realize they’d stopped talking entirely. Both of them were looking at me now, their gazes expectant. Silent.
A server ambled over to the table, a disinterested twenty-something whose presence seemed like a chore. He looked like the idea of spending his day here was slowly draining the life from him. We gave him our orders, and he slunk off toward the kitchen with a lack of enthusiasm that mirrored my own mood. The dim restaurant was sparsely populated, just a few patrons scattered in booths, the kind of place you wouldn’t remember walking out of. Ryder collected our menus, pushing them into their holder with a soft clink.
Still, neither of them said anything. They just waited.
Ryder knew me better than anyone. Hell, he’d been through enough with me to write a damn book about it. But even he couldn’t fully understand the mess my mind was tangled in today, or why I couldn’t pull myself together. I could feel their eyes on me like a weight I couldn’t shake.
“Surprised we get the pleasure of your company today, Ry.” Rowan finally broke the silence, his tone light but laced withthe kind of teasing I could never escape. In the last few months, Rowan and I had gotten used to Ryder vanishing whenever he could get to San Jose to see my sister.
Ryder frowned, but there was a flicker of guilt behind it. “I’ve been around.”
Rowan laughed softly, shaking his head. “Around the team, maybe. Not around us. We get it, though. If we had a woman like Sydney in our lives, we’d bail on the rest of the world too.”
“First, gross. I don’t want a woman like Sydney. She’s my sister.” I tried to make a joke out of it, but it fell flat between us. They didn’t smile, just watched me, their silence heavy with understanding. “Guys, is it really so weird that I dragged you across the city for tacos at this… glorious establishment?”
Ryder’s eyes scanned the restaurant, from the worn tile floors to the cracked vinyl booths. He raised an eyebrow, as if weighing whether this place was worth the effort. Rowan’s lips quirked, but he kept his thoughts to himself, letting Ryder do the judging.
Both of them were dressed like they could’ve stepped off the cover of a magazine: Rowan in dark jeans and a sleek black polo, Ryder in acid-wash denim and a white shirt that screamed effortlessly cool. They were light and dark angels perched on my shoulders, their contrasting styles making me want to laugh at how ridiculous we all looked together.
Me? I had tried today—well, sort of. I put on my best pair of jeans, dark like Rowan’s, and a bright yellow Lacoste that felt a little too bold for my usual muted wardrobe. My hair was tamed with product for once, and I’d even given myself a clean shave, a rare feat. There were no sweats in sight, though I could feel them both wishing they were back home, draped in bathrobes, wrapped in the comfort of our couch.
"Thanks for coming," I muttered, leaning back with a heavy sigh. "I just needed to get out of the house today." And to seeher. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way she looked last night—her hair whipping around her shoulders as she shouted at us from behind the bench, a fire in her eyes that made me feel like I couldn’t breathe. Pathetic? Probably. But I didn’t care.
I reached for my phone again, but as my fingers brushed the screen, I felt Ryder's gaze on me. His eyes followed my hand, a silent question hanging in the air between us.
I quickly folded my hands in my lap, leaning back against the cold, hard vinyl of the booth. "It's nothing."
"Mmhmm." Ryder didn’t buy it, his voice heavy with skepticism. "Is that why you keep looking at your phone like it’s about to start a conversation?"
Rowan, always the observant one, leaned forward, elbows planted on the table. His youthful face was thoughtful, his eyes studying me like he was trying to figure out a puzzle. He had no idea how lucky he was. He had the whole world ahead of him—his hockey career just starting, a future full of possibilities. Plenty of time to find the perfect woman, and still not have to worry if she was off-limits. He had it all.Hehad the luxury of time to fall in love… and maybeIdidn’t. The thought hit me hard, and I cursed myself under my breath. I raked a hand through my hair, trying to tame it, but it only made things worse.
Ryder cleared his throat, breaking through my internal mess. "What gives, Ted?" He paused, his gaze narrowing slightly. "You're acting like you're…" His eyes widened ever so slightly. "Why do you keep checking your phone?"
I froze, my heart skittering in my chest. I tried to laugh it off, but it came out as a nervous puff of air. "What? I don’t.’"
Rowan’s eyeroll was exaggerated, a well-practiced move at this point. But Ryder wasn’t about to let it go. "The last time I saw you acting all nervous over a girl, you had a little thing for our TA." He leaned in, his eyes now impossibly wide. "So, this is about Coach?"
"No!" My head snapped back.
Rowan erupted into laughter, his whole body shaking with it. He didn’t stop even when the server appeared with our tacos, the tray clattering slightly as it landed on the table. I tried to ignore the tension rolling in my stomach and took too big of a bite, only to choke on the hidden habanero peppers. My mouth went on fire, and I grabbed my water, gulping it down desperately. But it wasn’t enough. Without thinking, I reached for Rowan’s glass and finished that too.
Rowan’s laughter was louder now, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes as he shook his head, still unable to catch his breath.
And still… Ryder was silent.
I couldn’t bring myself to meet either of their eyes, so I took another bite, smaller this time, and washed it down with another desperate gulp of water. I ignored the burning sensation in my throat, focusing only on the taste of the peppers and trying to drown out the noise in my head.
As Rowan’s laughter started to quiet down, turning into soft chuckles, I finally found the courage to glance at Ryder. My oldest friend. He saw right through me.
