“And step four,” Priya continued, ignoring my panic while reaching across the table to grip my hand. “You get his number. Or give him yours. Or both. This is non-negotiable. I do not want to see you return to our apartment until you complete this mission. Do you understand?”
I stared at the napkin I hadn’t realized I’d shredded while we’d been talking.
“He might not come back,” I mumbled.
“He already came back,” Priya said gently.
“Maybe he just likes the food—”
“Finn.” Mark reached across the table and put his hand over mine and Priya’s. “Stop overthinking this. He likes you. You like him. The rest is just details.”
“I’m good at details.”
“Then detail your way into getting his phone number.”
Linda appeared with ourpancakes—three massive golden stacks with bacon on the side that was crispy enough to shatter. We dug in, and the conversation shifted to safer topics: Rod’s menu innovations, Maya’s social media strategy, and whether we should invest in better sound system for the TVs.
But Priya’s four-step plan repeated in my head like a challenge.
Step one: Acknowledge him.
Step two: Send a drink.
Step three: Have an actual conversation.
Step four: Get his number.
It sounded so simple.
And utterly terrifying.
I’d flirted a million times with hundreds of guys. Hell, I’d picked up more than my fair share. Why was talking to this one making my insides turn to jelly? What was it about Chase that had me so twisted in knots?
I was being an idiot. I was handsome. No, I was a sexy fucker. I could win a man’s attention. Whether I could win his heart, well, that remained to be seen. But I could flirt, get his number, and talk him out of his painted-on jeans.
“Okay,” I said finally. “I’ll do it. Next time he comes in, I’ll follow the plan.”
“Promise?” Priya asked.
“Promise.”
Mark raised his coffee mug. “To Finn getting his shit together and getting laid. Eventually.”
“To Barbacks being a success,” Priya countered, raising hers.
“To not dying of anxiety before any of this works out,” I added, raising mine.
We clinked mugs.
And I tried not to think about green eyes and tight white T-shirts and the fact that I now had a plan for something I had no idea how to execute.
One step at a time.
I could do this.
Probably.
Chapter 17
