“Don’t you dare,” Summer says. “You’re the only thing keeping this place interesting.”
“She’s mortifying me,” Tessa mutters, looking at me from between her fingers.
I grin. “Nah, I like her. Even if she has a habit of showing up at awful times.”
Summer perks up. “See? He gets it.”
“Okay, we’re leaving,” Tessa says quickly, snatching up her bag.
“Have fun, lovebirds!” Summer calls as we step into the hall. “But nottoomuch fun. Last time I had to hear her wake up from having a sex dream, and it’s reminding me how very single I currently am.”
The door shuts behind us, and Tessa groans again. “I swear, I’m never telling her anything ever again.”
I chuckle as we walk down the hall. Outside, the cold air hits, and Tessa pulls her jacket tighter around herself while I take her bag, tossing it into the back seat of my truck before helpingher in. She glances over once we’re on the road, a small smile tugging at her lips.
“You’re still not gonna tell me where we’re going, are you?” she asks.
“Nope.” Her head tilts, studying me. I reach over, resting my hand lightly over hers on the console. “Trust me. You’ll have fun.”
She looks down at our hands for a beat, then threads her fingers through mine. “I already am.”
And just like that, I don’t feel like I’m walking a line between who I used to be and who I’m trying to become. Everything feels like it’s falling into place the way it was meant to. Well, maybe without all the headlines dragging me and our relationship, but still.
The drive out of town takes less than fifteen minutes, just long enough for the streetlights to thin out and the fields we pass through to turn into patches of fog. Tessa hums along to the radio, her hand resting on the console, fingers brushing mine every so often. She’s trying not to look curious, but she’s terrible at hiding it.
When I turn into a gravel lot and kill the engine, she leans forward, squinting through the windshield.
“Wait,” she says slowly. “Is this…?”
“Yep.”
Her head snaps toward me, eyes wide. “You brought me to a bar?”
“Technically, it’s a barandgrill,” I correct, trying not to laugh.
She raises a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “So what now? You planning on getting me drunk so I forget how embarrassing my roommate was earlier?”
I grin. “Something like that.”
We step out, boots crunching against the gravel. The place looks exactly how I remembered it, with neon beer signs glowing in the windows, laughter spilling out every time the door opens, and the faintthunkof wood splitting echoing from inside.
It takes her a second to realize what that sound is.
“Clay,” she says slowly, stopping just inside the door. “Is that—?”
“Axe throwing,” I finish for her, trying not to smile too big.
She stares at the rows of wooden lanes and targets painted like giant bull’s-eyes, then turns to me, her expression somewhere between amused and horrified. “You brought me to a place where I get to throw sharp objects at the wall?”
“Pretty much.”
Her eyes narrow. “You do remember who you’re dating, right? How many times did I trip over something or on the ice while we were together during winter break? You clearly don’t know me well if you thought this would be a good idea.”
“I do.” I smirk, reaching for her hand. “That’s what makes this fun.”
She laughs, shaking her head as I lead her to the counter. We sign in, grab our gear, and the instructor runs us through the basics. I already know she’s only half listening. Her eyes keep flicking toward the wall of axes like one of them has it out for her.
When it’s her turn, she hesitates at the throwing line.
