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“Bullshit.” Dawson coughed the word into his hand as he lowered down beside me.
I ignored him and scanned the crowd. Without meaning to, my eyes fell on Daphne, who was standing in front of the Clown Balloon Bust game. I watched as Lyons leaned down and whispered something in her ear, and her head fell back as she laughed.
What the fuck had he said?
He wasn’t even funny.
She was still laughing when an ocean breeze blew the skirt of her lavender dress up, and Mark quickly held it down, ensuring her modesty. She smiled at him like he was her hero, and I saw her mouth,thank you.
The scene hit me like a wrecking ball to the nutsack. He shouldn’t be the one protecting her. I should. I’d always liked Lyons, but right now I wanted to throw him off the end of the pier.
“Holy shit,” Dawson whispered beside me.
He spoke so quietly that I had to glance over at him to see if I’d imagined him saying something or if he had actually whispered the two words. When I did, I saw that he was staring at me like I’d just grown a second head.
“What?”
“You arefucked.”
“Thanks,” I said dryly as I lifted my beer to him in cheers.
“I’m serious. When I saw you dancing with her at the gala, I knew you liked her, but this…I didn’t think you had it this bad.”
Not wanting to continue this conversation, I took another sip of my beer and turned my attention back to AJ and his friends, who were now climbing on the Ferris wheel.
“You love her,” Dawson claimed.
The statement hung in the air. I didn’t respond to it. As much as I wanted to tell him he was full of shit, I remained quiet. Even though I knew there was no way that was possible…I’d only known her a week. So, why wasn’t I correcting him?
“What are you going to do about it?” Dawson challenged.
As much as I loved my friend, and appreciated how much he’d been there for me when I lost my dad, when we both lost Austin, and when Meemaw passed, I did not feel like having a Taster’s Choice moment with him.
Thankfully, before I had to be a dick and tell him it was none of his fucking business, he got a page to go into the firehouse.
“This conversation isn’t over. And please don’t show up at the drive-in on Thursday,” he requested as he slapped his hand on my shoulder before he stood to leave.
The drive-in, Thursday.
Right.
The girl I might love was on a date with one of my friends and was going on another date to a drive-in movie theater in four days with my best friend.
Yeah. Dawson was right. I was fucked.
25
DAPHNE
“I thinkwe got some good stuff,” Lydia assured me as she helped me remove my mic, which was taped to my chest.
“Yeah, I think so.” I wasn’t sure if my co-signing of her opinion was for her benefit or mine in a failed attempt to convince myself that I’d made good TV tonight.
Lydia’s tight smile and nod told me that I wasn’t the only one trying to put a positive spin on what I could easily classify as the most boring date ever recorded in history.
It had started off strong. Out of all the dates I’d gone on, Mark Lyons had made an impression on me. If you googled tall, dark, and handsome, his face would be in the first ten results. He stood an impressive six foot two inches tall, with dark hair, light amber eyes, tanned skin, and good teeth. His smile was lethal. I was sure it had gotten him out of his fair share of trouble and into even more.
He was funny, smart, and seemed like a decent guy all around. I had the personality of toast—not cinnamon sugar toast, avocado toast, or even buttered toast, just plain toast.
