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“The assistant manager guy. The one always hovering around self-checkout.”
I grimace. “Okay, forget about who. What’s the plan?”
“I don’t know. Go ruin their date,” Jensen says, leaning against the lockers beside me.
Smirking, I shake my head at him. “Find out where they’re going. Tell her you want to know for safety reasons, and we can scope out the place at lunch.”
Jensen brightens, nodding as he starts texting vehemently.
I shift, tucking the books to my side as I clear my throat. “Just curious. Who would you accept for your mom?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, your mom’s gonna get back out there. Who would you want her with?”
His face twists. “I don’t know. There’s not really a person I have in mind, just not that guy.”
“But you would want her with someone who cares about her a lot? Someone who would do everything to treat her right.” I press.
Jensen’s brows furrow. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know, it's weird to think about.”
I slump back, slightly defeated. I don’t want to poke at it anymore, or he might get suspicious. Jensen is observant to the point of paranoia sometimes. His phone pings, and he focuses back on it.
“She doesn’t know, but I like your idea. I’m going to have her find out,” he says, clapping my shoulder as he runs off again.
I’m tempted to text Olivia myself, but I’m not certain that she didn’t block my number.
Olivia
Mycheekshurtfromhow many times I’ve forced a smile on my face for the past hour. I feel like an absolute idiot for agreeing to this date. The urgency to debunk my feelings for Cole made me accept without thinking when he had asked earlier this morning.
Pulling my hand away, I grip the stem of the wineglass and bring it closer to my chest as I slouch in the chair. Greg has kept finding any excuse to touch me, and while they aren’t entirely inappropriate, they make me uncomfortable. His clammy palms didn’t let go of my elbow for the entire walk from his car to our seats, and I had to fight the urge to wipe at my skin with the napkin.
“I still can’t believe you agreed,” he grins, trying to set his hand between us on the table.
I smile again, not commenting since this is the fifth time he’s said it. I sip at the wine, tempted to glance at my phone and have my son fake an emergency. My only hesitation would be that he would drag his best friend along and I don't want Cole to know anything about my disastrous date.
“Ready to order?” The waitress comes by for a second time, and I want to groan. Greg hasn’t even bothered to check the menu since the last time the young girl had stopped by our table.
“Yes!” I interrupt him from sending her away again.
“Chicken Alfredo for me.” I snap the heavy plastic flaps together and hand it back to her. She nods and turns to a flustered Greg.
“Oh… Uh. I guess I’ll have the same,” he mutters.
I frown. “I thought you were a vegetarian.” The constant complaints about the deli department came to mind during the times he would follow me around the store.
“Sometimes a bit of a flexitarian,” he shrugs.
The waitress lingers for a second, waiting to see if Greg will change his mind before moving away to her next table.
“Flexitarian?” I ask.
Greg chuckles. “It’s a real thing. It means I tend to have a more plant-based diet, but sometimes I will have small amounts of meat.”
My eyebrows scrunch. I was definitely going to look that up later because it sounded like something he just made up to get out of an awkward situation.
“That’s–”
