“I’m good,” I say quickly.
Her eyes linger on mine for a beat too long. Then sheturns back to the steam, and I’m left wondering if she feels this pull too—or if I’m alone in it.
The game starts harmless enough—Finn daring Jessica, Jessica daring him back. Laughter builds. Then Finn grins.
“Truth or dare, Wren.”
“Truth.”
“Nerdiest thing you’ve ever done on a date.”
Silence drops like a puck.
“That’s easy. I’ve never been on one.”
The world tilts.
Never been on a date.
Which means?—
The realization hits cold and sharp: if anything happens this weekend, I’ll be her first. First kiss. First everything.
Nausea surges.
“That’s criminal,” I blurt.
What I mean is: I am.
She meets my eyes calmly. “Relax, O’Connor. I’m not asking you to fix it.”
A ripple of laughter, uneasy but moving on. The noise returns. Steam curls. Drinks clink.
I’m frozen in place.
Never been on a date.
The words sit in my chest like a live wire.
If I tell her now, it ends. The weekend. The tension. The lie. I tell her, and this becomes a story she tells later about the asshole hockey player who tried to turn her into a joke.
That’s what should happen.
I turn toward her, heart hammering, my mouth already shaping her name?—
She’s watching the water, fingers tracing idle circles on the surface. Open.Unarmed. Trusting.
A confession here wouldn’t be honest. It would be violent.
I’ll tell her later.
Tomorrow. When it’s quiet. When it’s just us. When I can explain instead of detonating everything in front of an audience.
That’s what I tell myself.
She shifts closer, her knee brushing mine again.
My resolve shatters.
