Oh god. He’s here.
What was she supposed to do—curtsy? Faint? Spontaneously combust? Too bad there wasn’t a conveniently placed window to swan dive through.
Be cool.
She took a swig of beer as the string parts fromRequiem for a Dreamechoed in her head.
Be cooler.
One after another Sebastien’s buddies posed for pictures with Cary as if he were the Second Coming. Truth be told, Jesus would have taken fewer selfies before he got annoyed.
The puck was about to drop so Tyler turned on her heel. She was there to watch the game, not Cary Kingston, even though it was a nice view.
“Is this seat taken?” a voice from behind her asked.
It’s him.
She half-turned around and smiled. “Be my guest.”
Cary lowered himself into the seat beside her. “We’ve really got to stop coordinating our outfits,” he said. “Where’s Rory?”
“He’s at my dad’s.”
“Are you staying there?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
Cary pointed to her beer. “Where do I order?”
Jessica was already staring at him when Tyler waved her over.
“What can I-I get you, Mr. Kingston?” Jessica’s voice trembled.
“Mr. Kingston is my dad. Please, call me Cary.”
She giggled. “What can I get you, Cary?”
“How’s the wine?” he asked.
Tyler touched the arm of his jersey. “I’m sure it’s not great, not like what you’re used to.”
“Yeah, it’s just red or white,” Jessica admitted.
“Red, please.” Cary placed his hand on Tyler’s thigh and her muscles contracted. “It’ll be fine.”
Jessica giggled again. “Another beer for you, Tyler?”
“Please.”
And Jessica took off as if her life depended on it.
“I think someone wants an autograph.” Tyler batted her eyelashes.
“Sure,” Cary said. “Where should I sign?”
She squeezed his upper arm, not expecting to find muscle there. “Not me, Cary. Our server.”
“Ow!” He smiled, holding his arm. “I’ve got to play tomorrow.”
