Weston
I knew I was being ridiculous when, during class, I kept checking my phone for any missed texts or phone calls.
Kiersten hadn’t responded to me. And I hated that my mind was absolute crap, while I made excuses for why she wouldn’t talk to me.
Was it because of my dad?
Or did I push her too far too fast?
Shit.
My phone vibrated in my hand. Finally!
I looked down at the text.
We still on for 2night?
I was barely able to hide my excitement. As it was, I had such a giant-assed grin on my face, that I’m sure my professor assumed I was high, or looking at dirty pictures or something.
“Something you want to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Michels?” Crap, so she had noticed.
I cleared my throat and nodded. “I have a date.”
A few people whispered around me.
And then I received a slap or two on the back from teammates. My professor, however, seemed less than amused. She rolled her eyes and returned to her lecture. But I couldn’t concentrate. Instead, I texted her back.
Counting down the minutes.
So I’d lost every ounce of game I’d carefully pieced together throughout my existence. I didn’t want to play the cool and aloof guy. The one that had all the time in the world, because I knew I didn’t. And I wanted to capture every damn moment until it was too late.
My hands shook.
I checked my phone again.
I’d need to do another batch of meds before I saw her tonight. If I skipped my next class, took them about an hour early, and lay down, I’d probably be fine for the date. At least, fine enough not to puke all over her pretty face.
Ten minutes later, I strolled out of the room and made a beeline for the dorms.
Chapter Twenty
Why hadn’t I realized until now that I’d never been on a date? What do I wear? Are we eating? Holy crap! I’m think I’m going to be sick…
Kiersten
“Does it look okay? Really?” I asked for the twentieth time.
Gabe smacked his hand against his forehead and cursed. “Just chill out! Geez, I have half a mind to give you alcohol right now. Sit. It’s almost ready.”
I smirked.
Another deadpan expression from Gabe as he ran the iron over the white shirt. “I take this to my grave you know.”
“What? The white shirt?” I asked innocently.
“No.” He rolled his eyes and unplugged the iron. “My Martha Stewart skills.”
“He can sew too,” Lisa announced as she walked into the room and dangled a necklace in front of my face. “In fact, I’m pretty sure if you asked him to knit you a sweater you’d have one by Christmas.”
“Thanks, cousin.” Gabe flipped her off and threw the shirt at me.
“Hey!” I caught it midair. “We don’t want all your hard work going to waste.”
“I need more guy friends,” Gabe mumbled as he took a seat on the couch and sighed into his hands.
Lisa gasped. “I’m offended! You know I’m your favorite.”
His eyes narrowed. “You know you’re a loser when your best friend is your cousin.”
“Aw, Gabe.” Lisa pressed her hand to her chest. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“Right.” He folded his arms and groaned, leaning his head back on the couch. “I need a smoke.”
“You quit,” Lisa sang.
“Fine, then I need alcohol.”
“You don’t drink anymore.”
I laughed when Gabe gave me an exasperated look. He pushed to his feet and walked over to the kitchen. I heard water running and then cursing.
“Don’t mind him.” Lisa waved in Gabe’s direction. “He really isn’t as annoyed as he seems. Promise.”
“Lies,” he yelled from the kitchen.
“Now…” Lisa pointed to my t-shirt. “Strip. He worked hard on this and I want to make sure it looks good with the skirt.”