Thankfully, Wyatt doesn’t seem to notice my mini freak out. He’s easy to talk to. Mostly because he does the majority of the talking, but I don’t mind. He has a nice voice, and he keeps his attention focused on me despite the dozens of other girls walking around the restaurant.
“So, what are you studying?” he asks before taking a drink of his Coke.
“Public relations,” I tell him.
“Oh, cool. What got you into that?” He’s so animated with the way he talks. Like he’s genuinely interested. It’s sweet.
“My Dad. He’s our uh …” This part is always a little weird. “He’s Richland’s mayor.”
He coughs, choking on his Coke as his eyes go wide. “No shit?” he asks after pounding on his chest. He reaches for a napkin to wipe his face and coughs again to clear his throat.
Heat rises in my face. “Don’t make it weird.” I wince, realizing I said that out loud, and Wyatt's face splits into a grin.
“Not weird,” he assures me. He takes another drink of his Coke, this time without issue. “Just took me by surprise, but that’s cool. Really cool,” he says. “So public relations. Do you have your eyes set on politics too, or is that so you can maybe help him out on his campaigns and stuff?”
“No politics for me.” I shrug. “But yeah. I guess so, I can help him out. I’m still not one hundred percent sold on it, but I was undeclared last year and public relations makes sense, so I just rolled with it.”
Our food arrives, and our conversation takes a momentary pause while we both focus on eating. My attention is pulledtoward the televisions above the bar, and I catch myself watching highlights of one of PacNorth’s previous football games.
“Last week,” Wyatt says, and I flick my gaze toward him. “The game.”
“Oh, yeah. Which one are you?” He points to one of the guys on the screen. “Number sixty-seven.”
We finish our meal and watch the game, and all in all, I decide to count this date as a win. We’ve been here for almost an hour. I haven’t had a panic attack, and Wyatt’s been … nice. If tonight’s date is a test, I’m passing with flying colors.
A wave of relief sweeps through me. Yeah. This was good.
Now if I can just figure out a way to call an end to the night before I do something embarrassing, I’ll be set. “So, this was fun.” I smile, picking at the last of my fries.
“Yeah. It was.” His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he offers me a toothy smile. “I had a really great time.”
He reaches a hand across the table and places it on top of mine. His eyes stare into my own, searching.
Oh no.He wants to do this again.
Is he going to ask me out? Like, here? I thought there was a three day rule or something like that.
Swallowing hard, I tug my hand free and place it in my lap. “I did too.” All true. I did have a good time. But I’m just dipping my toes back in the water here. Proving to myself that I can do it. You know, be normal again. I’m not actually interested in dating, or you know, like having a boyfriend or anything. Does he want that?
No. I’m getting ahead of myself. Breathe, Cecilia. I try to suck in a lungful of air, but my throat feels tight. I can’t get enough air into my lungs. Shit. Now I decide to panic? Seriously?
“We should?—”
“Yeah. So, um …” I say at the same time.
He laughs, and I force myself to follow suit but it’s choppy and breathless. Hopefully, he doesn’t notice.
“Sorry.”
“No. You go ahead.”
I really don’t want to. I don’t want to mess everything up. Licking my lips, I try not to hunch my shoulders as I remind myself that I’m jumping the gun here. Wyatt hasn’t asked for a second date and there’s a chance that he won’t. While we were talking, he mentioned he was swamped with school and football. That’s why he hasn’t done a lot of dating this year. He’ll probably want to keep this casual, too. Be friends, maybe. Friends would be nice. I could use more of those.
A phone rings, interrupting my train of thought, and I exhale a sigh of relief.
“Sorry.” Wyatt pats his jean pockets, shoving his hand into one and retrieving his phone. He glances down at his screen, a small frown on his face when he sees who’s calling.
Whoever they are, they obviously need to talk to him. It’s the third call he’s gotten since we arrived at The Wolf Den. I didn’t miss the calls before that he just silenced in his pocket without looking.
