“Fish.”
“You are just full of surprises.”
“I could live on sushi, if I had to.”
He nodded, holding his hands out as though writing in a book.
“Noted. Next time, sushi.”
A small thrill ran through me at the mention of a next time, but I squashed it down. This couldn’t happen again if I wanted to maintain a professional distance. Cian O’Leary’s friendship was a path more dangerous than any Temple of Doom or booby-trapped pyramid. It was only a matter of time before I found myself at the bottom of a pit or crushed beneath a careless boulder.
Maybe I shouldn’t have sat up late watching old Indiana Jones movies, I decided as Cian sipped on his drink.
“Favorite age so far?” he said.
That was a hard one. I’d loved my time playing hockey, but that had been while I was still at home and dealing with my mother and sister daily. I shuddered. Definitely not then.
College was okay, though I never really felt like I fit in, and while I loved what I did now, sometimes the loneliness dragged me down.
“Twenty-four,” I decided, lifting my soda in a toast and taking a long sip.
“Aren’t you twenty-three?”
I shrugged, the edge of my lips twitching.
“Call me an optimist.”
“The best is yet to come?” He lifted a brow in challenge, and I let the smile free.
We were interrupted from our game briefly as our burgers and fries arrived, and I reluctantly agreed they were the best I’d had in Austin. Conversation flowed easily, and before I knew it, the light was fading in the sky.
“I think you might have missed your mother’s visit,” Cian mused, stretching his shoulders. His shirt rode up over his abdomen, revealing a pale stripe of skin I wished I were brave enough to lick.
“Are you ready to go home?”
He slid out of the booth and held out a hand to me. Instead of accepting the offer, I shuffled out by myself and headed for the exit as he tapped his phone to pay at the counter. I was well fed and had had a wonderful time with a man who was funny, charming, and attentive.
The freakout had begun.
Cian tried to engage me in conversation as he steered us toward my apartment, but my mind was filled with slideshows of boys from my past who I thought I could trust. Of sneering rejections and laughing ridicule. At the center of it all was my sister telling me I should have known better.
That no one loves an ugly duckling.
I dove out of the truck as we rolled to a stop outside my apartment, almost rolling an ankle in my haste to get away.
“Wait. Blair, wait!” he called, jumping out after me. His truck continued to rumble, and I wondered if he’d thought to pull the parking brake.
“Thanks for the day. I had a great time. See you,” I rushed out, all but sprinting for the door to my building.
“Wait, what’s wrong?” He caught my elbow, pulling me around to face him.
“I thought we had fun today.”
“Fun. Sure,” I spat, thankful that the parking lot was quiet and no one was likely to hear our confrontation.
“What did I do wrong? I thought we were friends, but you’re acting like I broke your favorite laptop and spit in your coffee.”
“What’s the catch?” I asked, the challenge clear in my tone. If he wanted to do this, I would. Cards on the table. It seemed like a good enough night to have my heart broken.
