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I don’t want to be more specific. Those few minutes were mine alone. “It wasn’t anything, but it waseverything.”
“Huh. You’re sure you’re a writer?”
I exhale a laugh, unsure how to explain. “It gave me a stunning amount of hope. That’s all I can say.”
A hope I’ve been clinging to for days now.
He runs one hand through his sweat-damp hair. “Can I ask exactly what you’re waiting for? I mean, I get it, you don’t want to ruin your friendship. It’s hard to risk, all the rest. But do you ever think you’re waiting for her to pass a test she doesn’t know she’s taking?”
“It’s not like that.” I don’t like the implication I think Georgia’s failing at something. I’m not testing her. If anything, I’m testing myself. “She has solid reasons for being wary of relationships. Family stuff. I can’t force her to work through that on my timeline.”
“And?”
Owen’s quiet but perceptive. He sees a lot more than he lets on. Which can be surprisingly annoying when you’re used to cruising under the radar like I am.
“And…I don’t want to be that friend-zoned guy who’s only waiting around for her to change her mind and date him. I value our friendship for what it is now. I love being around her even if nothing romantic ever develops between us. I don’t want to make her question my motives or think our entire friendship was a lie because I was hoping for more.”
It would rip me to shreds if she discounted the last few years because of my feelings for her.
“I get that. But you are hoping for more.”
I sag against the brick wall. “It’s kind of a Catch-22.”
“I think she’ll know the difference between you and the type of guy who abandons the friendship the minute he’s rejected.”
I would love to believe so. “Except proving that theory requires getting rejected.”
“Right. That part’s tricky.”
We drink our waters, listening to the rhythmic thumping as the class moves through their strike routine. It’s louder than I like, but it almost becomes white noise in my head.
“On the bright side, you took an apple for her. That’s got to prove something.” Owen smirks beneath his thick beard.
“All right. You already had your laugh about it.” For a full five minutes when I showed up tonight. Such a good friend.
“When you inevitably tell the story about the apple around town, don’t mention that I train you. I have a reputation to uphold.”
“I’m sure that will be people’s first question. ‘But who’s your trainer?’”
“Exactly my point. ‘Shouldn’t Owen have prepared you for fruit-related dangers?’ I don’t want to deal with the gossip.”
I laugh, but it’s not really a joke. Peoplewillask about the fist-like bruise on my face. And if they don’t ask me directly, they’ll at least talk. Clearly, I can’t go see my aunt at Hair and Now until it’s completely healed.
“Will you be at Fiesta Village tomorrow night for games?” I ask.
He nods. “Wouldn’t miss it. Grams says it’s her favorite part of the week. That was a really good idea you had.”
I shrug it off. It wasn’t that difficult to find volunteers—spending a couple of hours every other week at one of the local retirement complexes playing board games isn’t a hardship. I’m just glad they scheduled game nights during the evening after Dogeared is closed so I can join in.
Even if, lately, I don’t have a whole lot of time to spare for games no matter the time of day.
“They like visitors and new activities. Maybe you could teach the residents how to kick box.”
I’m teasing, but some of Fiesta Village’s residents wouldprobably take him up on it. Feistiness is the name of the game over there.
“I don’t know if I could handle them.” He chugs the last of his water and gives me a look. “Any news on the setup front?”
“The first one was not a love connection. Georgia’s still looking for date number two.”
