I had to admit, it was. It was lovely. And probably expensive as all get out, too. And nothing like mine and Peyton’s little hole in the wall Mexican place she loved so much.
Forget about it. Don’t think about her right now.
“Order whatever you’d like,” I told Amanda, forcing Peyton from the forefront of my mind. “Obviously, I’m treating.”
Amanda’s eyes lit up like a schoolgirl at her first dance and she skimmed the menu, mumbling to herself under her breath. I took a quick glance at the front of the sheet, deciding on the fifteen-dollar hamburger, and as Amanda mulled over her choices I slipped my phone out of my pocket to check the screen, always hoping but never expecting communication from Peyton. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since she’d walked out of my life again, and I resented myself every day for it. I still called her daily, even if it was just once, to leave a message and keep her up on what was happening here. I don’t know if she listened to them or not—probably just deleted them—but it made me feel connected to her still, if only a little. At least she hadn’t changed her number yet.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket and glanced up just as Amanda laid the menu aside and took a sip of her ice water, gazing at me over the crowded tabletop. Her lips were stained red, leaving a slight mark on the glass. She set it down and leaned forward, positioning her arms in such a way that her breasts perked up considerably. Honestly, they were nice, but also somewhat distracting.
“I’m so glad we did this,” she said, resting her hand on top of the table subtly, as if hoping I’d take the hint and hold it. “I’ve been dying to spend some time with you, but it seemed you were always, erm, distracted?”
“Distracted,” I repeated. “With Peyton, you mean?”
“Among other things,” she said with a small shrug, but I knew I’d nailed it.
“Well, Peyton is gone,” I said, hating myself for saying it out loud. It only made it seem more real when I did, and I hadn’t meant to talk about Peyton with Amanda anyway.
“Oh, Korbin,” she said, reaching fully across the table to take my hand before I could pull it away. I let her hold it, mostly because it would be awkward to pull away now. “I can see you’re hurting, and I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“But maybe this is for the best.”
I opened my mouth to argue with her, to defend Peyton or me or both of us, but then closed it again. I had nothing to argue. I’d fucked up, and Peyton was gone. That’s all there was to it.
“Maybe it is,” I said instead, the forced lies feeling like hot rubber between my teeth. I squeezed Amanda’s hand back, and she smiled. She was enjoying this. Maybe I could, too.
“Can I get you lovebirds started out with something to drink?” the server asked, startling us out of our conversation. I dropped my hand from Amanda’s and smiled.
“Yes. How about some stiff drinks?”
“Sounds like a good time to me,” Amanda said with a flirty grin. I ordered myself a whiskey sour and she ordered a daquiri, then we put in an order for our food.
“You look really nice,” I said as we waited, sipping our drinks. “I don’t know if I told you that earlier.”
“You did,” she said with a small smile. “But I’ll take it any time.”
“I’m sorry that it took so long for us to go on this date, too,” I continued, feeling the whiskey from the glass coat my insides with a warm, fuzzy feeling. “Things got really crazy at work.”
“You have an important job,” she said softly, reaching her hand across the table to take mine again. This time, I didn’t pull away as the booze tickled my insides and coated my throat. The daquiri Amanda had was almost empty, and I ordered us both new drinks as the server delivered our food. It felt good to loosen up and relax—finally, my mind was elsewhere for a brief moment and not where it always was: on Peyton.
“I have a job,” I said, popping a French fry into my mouth. “I don’t know if I’d say it’s important.”
“Don’t kid yourself, Korbin, you’re a hero,” Amanda said gently. She hadn’t taken a bite of her food, and instead continued to watch me over the table, her slightly buzzed eyes focused on me so intently I wondered if I had some food in my teeth.
“A hero,” I said with a scoff. “Thanks, but not really.”
Amanda finally sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest as she continued to look at me, watching me eat, watching me move. She seemed fascinated by the mere though that we were here, together, and I wished she’d snap out of it.
“How’s the fish?” I asked pointedly, stabbing my fork in the air towards her plate. Amanda’s gaze didn’t waver, and she smiled dreamily.
“It’s wonderful.”
“You haven’t touched it.”
She didn’t respond to this, just continued to watch me eat until I finally called the server over to order her another drink.
“Water for me, please,” I said. “Thanks.”
