Page 90 of Breakaway Hearts

“I mean, I could just give them all to your friend, but…” She shrugs and I turn to Dave, who is knocking back a shot of tequila, with another waiting in front of him. He switched from beer after seeing what looked like a social media post on his phone, but he’s not pissed, more like heartbroken. He said it was nothing when I asked, so I’m not sure what to do other than let him try to drink it away. At least for tonight.

“Since when are you the responsible one?” Mike takes the seat beside me.

“How’s Halmeoni?” I turn it onto him and the phone call he went to take outside.

“Gramps signed out of Netflix and they couldn’t remember the password. She told him not to say urgent, but they need to finish some documentary before Go-Stop tomorrow.” He sighs, more because he’s worried about them than annoyed. He’d do anything for his grandparents.

“I told you, just make it OwenIsOurFavoriteGrandson and they’ll never forget.”

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpans. “What’s up with you?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“That girl is not being subtle, and I don’t even think you know she’s there.” He points to the table of girls.

“I’m here with you, dude.”

“I left for fifteen minutes, and you spent it staring at your phone.”

“I’m a popular guy,” I defend myself.

“You look like you’re waiting for it to ring,” he calls me on it, and I decide to drop pretenses.

“How many times can you text a girl who isn’t your girlfriend before it’s clingy boyfriend behavior?”

“Once,” Colt and Mike both tell me.

“I was hoping for the opinion of someone who actually has friends who are girls,” I argue, mostly because I don’t like their answer. I’d prefer they say three. Or more.

“Just because I don’t introduce them to you doesn’t mean I don’t have them.” Colt finishes his beer and smiles at another waitress. “Tanis,” he asks her when she comes over. “How many times can my friend here text a girl before it’s creepy and he should stop?”

“Without a response on her end,” Mike adds.

“Depends if you have plans. If you’re trying to make plans. If they’re openings she’s not taking or your long-winded answer to a question she asked. How long in between them…” Tanis looks to me expectantly.

“Tentative plans,” I say of Madison’s ‘maybe’ at the library. “And about twenty minutes between the first two⁠—”

“Out of how many?” Donovan joins in.

“Fuck, this isn’t a group project.” Mads and I don’t have a ‘keep it quiet’ so much as a ‘this is nothing’ rule, but I seriously doubt she wants anyone to know. And if they know who I’m hung up on, they will mock me mercilessly – as she does.

“If she was at the game but left during an intermission and her best friend, who planned on coming here, went home after his shower to hang out with her instead, hypothetically speaking, I’d say to stop at however many you’ve already sent because it isn’t happening—at least not tonight, and if you fucking lose us our goalie, I don’t care that you got him in the first place,” Donovan warns, “I will not forgive you.”

Assholes.

“The real question is, how many times can you ask a girl out and get turned down before it’s creepy fuck no territory?” Colt calls me on it.

“Forget I said anything,” I dismiss them, but also really hope they do. I had no clue I was that obvious, but I need to tone it down. Though they clearly haven’t picked up on our arrangement, because she isn’t always turning me down.

“I just texted Jason to see if he’s coming and he says he’s chilling at home with Madison,” David tells me, not in a whisper, but not loud enough for the whole table to hear either.

I nod and curse myself for not thinking to text him, but while that answers the ‘is she dead in a ditch somewhere?’ question, it doesn’t tell me why she isn’t answering.

“Hey there, Heartbreaker.” Nicole comes over and wraps her arms around my shoulders.

We flirted a bit last year, but never hooked up because she had a long distance boyfriend I’ve heard she has since broken up with.

“Nicole.” I give her a polite smile. “Take a seat,” I offer the one beside me, because she looks like she’s about to climb into my lap.