Page 19 of Diesel

“That a problem?” I leaned my back against the wall, folding my arm over my chest, and feeling kinda nervous talking to my crush. My pulse wouldn’t slow down and my vision had bathed everything in amber, an indication my eyes had started to glow.

“No, just—really?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re not just saying that to be nice?”

I blew out a slow, quiet breath. “I want to see you. It’s cool if you say no. Won’t hurt my feelings.” Maybe my pride, but I’d get over the disappointment. I always did.

Another pause, but shorter this time. “We’re at the Riverside Community Center, if you’re serious about hanging out. The game starts in about twenty minutes.”

“Be there in fifteen.”

“Diesel?”

“Yeah?”

“The seniors are going to lose their minds.”

“Looking forward to it.”

I ended the call and pocketed my phone, a rush of excitement hitting my veins. Ollie wanted to see me. I was so over the fucking moon, I was orbiting the earth.

Noodles zoomed past again, Spencer close behind her. Crowbar was watching them, his arms crossed, wearing an expression that said he was done with everyone’s nonsense.

“Heading out,” I said, grabbing my keys from the counter.

Crowbar raised an eyebrow. “Hot date?”

My grin split my face. “Bingo.”

He gave me a look that said I’d lost my mind. “Brother, that’s just…sad.”

“With Ollie.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “I’m going to enjoy every fucking sad minute of our date.”

“You could’ve led with that, jackass. You had me thinking I needed to stage an intervention,” he said, rolling his eyes. “How do you even intervene with sad bingo? Take away your cards and dabber, if that’s what it’s even called.”

“I don’t even know what that is.” My brow lifted. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs a sad bingo intervention, bro. You’re over there spittin’ knowledge like you’re a regular.”

“Fuck off.” Crowbar flipped me the middle finger.

“Whatever you say, Pookie.” I hurried out of the side exit before Crowbar could catch me. Noodles barked and nearly tripped Crowbar in her excitement to be a part of their fun.

The ride to the community center took twelve minutes. Traffic was light, and my bike ate up the distance between the clubhouse and Riverside like it was nothing. The single-story brick building appeared on my right, with the parking lot already three-quarters full.

I pulled into a spot near the entrance and killed the engine. Through the windows, I could see people moving around inside. Lots of grey hair. Lots of walkers and canes, with the occasional wheelchair gliding by.

After toeing the kickstand down, I headed for the entrance. The door was stuck, or locked, but with a light yank it opened. Inside, the smell hit first. Coffee, muscle rub, and a vague, nose-twitching odor that might’ve been air freshener or someone’s perfume.

The main room stretched out ahead, filled with long tables arranged in crooked rows. Seniors occupied most of the seats, chatting, laughing, and organizing their bingo supplies like they were preparing for battle.

At the front, a woman with a microphone was testing the sound system, her voice crackling through the speaker.

I scanned the room, my gaze finally landing on the man who made my pulse race.

Ollie sat at a table near the middle, surrounded by five seniors I recognized from not only their roadside breakdown, but Ollie’s conversations about their shenanigans. Irene in lavender, Walter working his jaw, Greta gesturing wildly while she told some story, Artie in another blazer—this one navy—and Edith clutching what looked like a tackle box full of daubers.

Okay. So I knew what they were called, but I’d refused to give Crowbar ammunition. If I hadn’t turned the tables, my room would’ve been flooded with bingo paraphernalia.

Ollie turned his head and scanned the room. He was looking for me. Fuck if that didn’t thrill me down to my bones. Then his hazel eyes found mine, his whole face changing, lighting up as brightness flooded his features. A grin spread across his mouth that made my heart give a little pinch.

Damn. He was genuinely happy to see me. Never had anyone look at me that way before. I stood there for a moment, committing it to memory, knowing I would think about his expression for years to come.