Page 63 of Enemy Games

“So would you ever want to go to dinner or a movie with me?”

Was he asking me out or was this his way of extending an olive branch? “Like you and me, or are you including any of our other friends in this?”

He rocked back and forth on his feet. “I was kind of hoping just you and me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That sounds awfully like a date.”

“A friend date,” he clarified.

That was definitely something that could happen. A platonic opportunity for two people of the opposite sex to spend time together, you know, platonically.

“Will there be popcorn with this movie?” I started to play along.

“Well of course.”

“With extra butter? And possibly some candy of sort.”

He chuckled and rubbed his jaw. “Definitely.”

“Then I suppose I would be interested in seeing a movie or perhaps going to dinner with you, my friend.”

“Well, neither of us has a game on Friday night. Do you have any other plans?”

I pretended to think about it. As if my social schedule was so packed. “No, I think I'm open on that day.”

His hand drifted to the back of his neck. “Then I'll be over at your house at seven.”

He was trying to hide it, but I could definitely see a blush creeping up. He was nervous. He was nervous about asking me, Presley. On a date.

Well, a friend date.

“I got to go to class, but I'll see you later.” I took a few steps backward and waved as he smiled.

Butterflies burst to life in my stomach. I turned before he could see the effect he was having on me, and hurried across campus to my class.

I really just accepted a date with Hunter Shaw? How did this even happen? Never in a million years did I think that we would be on speaking terms, let alone be cordial with each other.

But going on a date? This was so far out of the realm of reality I didn’t know what to do. What would Michelle think? Did I have to tell her? Not yet. At least. You're just friends. You're testing the waters.

Going out didn't have to mean anything. We were just two adults getting to know each other. Starting from scratch. No preconceived ideas or pasts to get in the way.

Friday Night came sooner than I was ready for. Chris lay on her bed and watched me try on outfits over and over again until she threw a pillow at me.

“It's time to stop and to wear whatever you have on.”

That was a black turtleneck with black jeans. And black boots. “I can't wear this. I look like I’m going to a funeral.”

“Throw on a jacket, and you'll be fine. You're overthinking everything.”

She was right. I was in minor freak-out mode.

I wasn't sure why there was so much pressure on this one night. But I built it up into something in my mind. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to go smoothly. I didn't want to mess this up. Because I had a feeling that this was our one shot to get things right.

The doorbell rang, and moments later, someone called my name from downstairs.

Chris slid off her bed and handed me my purse. “Have fun and don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

I laughed and took my bag from her and took the stairs as I pulled on my maroon coat.