“I’ll think about it,” I tell Melissa.
“He’s really sweet,” she pushes. “And he definitely wouldn’t care about…” She gestures vaguely at my face.
There it is. The thing everyone thinks but rarely says directly. That I should be grateful for anyone who can look past my scars.
Before the accident, I had my pick of any guy. Now my dating pool is limited to people who are “really sweet” and “wouldn’t mind.”
The thing is, I don’t want Melissa’s brother, who potentially won’t mind my face.
I want Jared, who sometimes looks at me like he’s seeing something precious, then immediately looks away like he’s not allowed to want what he sees.
“Thanks,” I say because she means well. “But I’m busy at the moment. I’m just not really looking right now.”
The busy thing is the truth. I’m spending so much time with Jared, and he also somehow got me to agree to try out for his soccer team next week. Because my life isn’t complicated enough without adding “try not to stare at Jared in shorts” to my list of challenges.
But it’s a lie that I’m not looking. I’m looking constantly. I’m just only looking at one person, and he seems determined to keep me firmly in the friend zone, no matter how many times I catch him staring at my mouth when he thinks I won’t notice.
“If you change your mind,” Melissa says, then moves on to complaining about her roster for next week.
I nod and make appropriate sympathetic noises, but my mind is already elsewhere. Thinking about Jared’s dark eyes and rumbling laughter, about the way Jared’s whole face changes when Emmy runs to greet him. Thinking about how he remembers that I like my coffee with an embarrassing amount of sugar and has started keeping a special jar of the good stuff just for me.
Thinking about how completely screwed I am because I’m falling for someone who already saved my life. It feels like he’s saving me again, but this time from disappearing into myself. Yet he doesn’t want anything more from me than friendship.
My phone buzzes with a text. Speak of the handsome devil.
Emmy wants to know if you’re free Saturday. She’s insisting we need to go feed the ducks at Western Springs. She’s worried they won’t eat without her.
I can’t help grinning. As an only child, I didn’t have much exposure to younger kids growing up, but I love spending time with Emmy. She treats me like I’m the most interesting person she’s ever met. Probably because I’m the only adult she knows who’ll have a serious debate about whether unicorns prefer chocolate or vanilla ice cream.
I’m not sure what it says about me that I appear to have found my match for my sense of humor in a four-year-old.
Sophie still acts weird around me though. I think she’s worried I’m going to monopolize her brother when she needs him for Emmy duty, so I’ve been trying to establish myself as the harmless neighbor who’s basically a free babysitting service disguised as Jared’s friend.
I text Jared back immediately.
Tell her I’ll bring the good food.
I’ve been educating Jared and Emmy that bread is actually not good for ducks, so we’ve been feeding them proper duck pellets I get from work. Emmy’s convinced this makes us duck doctors, and honestly, I’m not correcting her.
Jared’s reply comes through.
Emmy already picked out which ducks are yours to feed.
I stare at the message, at the casual way I’m included in their little family unit. I’ve never been claimed by a four-year-old or had someone assign me specific waterfowl.
“Felix, Princess Whiskers is coming out of surgery,” Aroha calls from the doorway.
“Coming,” I call back, tucking my phone away.
I’ve got a cat to monitor, procedures to perfect, and a job to secure. I need to stop worrying about my love life, or lack of it.
“Isit too late to fake a sudden illness?” I ask as Jared navigates through the traffic. “I’m very good at fake coughing.”
Jared sends me an amused look. “You can’t fake an illness to a paramedic.”
I shift in my seat. “Fine, but when I collapse on the field from my very real case of meeting-new-people-itis, you’ll have to explain to everyone why you ignored the symptoms.”
We’re fifteen minutes from the soccer field and my anxiety ramps up with every mile.
