Page 25 of Make No Mistake

“They’re pretty great.” After all they had been through together, they deserved a happily ever after.

When we arrived at the restaurant, we were immediately escorted to a table right behind an enormous fish tank with hundreds of colorful varieties. I could spend the whole meal watching it. The lights were dimmed, giving the entire restaurant an intimate atmosphere. I sat almost directly in the middle of the corner booth, hoping to give Jay plenty of room, but he continued to scoot in until his leg almost pressed against mine. Almost. He didn’t seem to notice his proximity since his focus was on the surrounding tables.

“So, have you guys been here before?” Jay picked up the single page menu with a pained expression.

Carter nodded and answered without looking up. “Yeah, I really like dragon rolls.”

He made a pained sound and nodded.

“Oh no. You hate sushi, don’t you?” Aubrey asked aloud what I’d been thinking.

“Not sushi, specifically. All fish. In any form, but raw seems especially disgusting.” He actually shuddered.

I couldn’t contain the laughter that was building up from escaping.

Carter looked amused. “He was born and raised in Los Angeles, and he doesn’t like fish?”

“I prefer for them to stay underwater where they belong.” This pushed me over the edge of being polite. I burst out laughing and covered my face with the menu.

Carter joined in my laughter. “Why did you agree to this place then?”

Jay shook his head and laughed with us. “I didn’t know where we were going. Mckayla just asked if I wanted to come out with you guys.”

They all turned and looked at me expectantly. “I didn’t know until I was getting ready. I’m really sorry, Jay.” I bit my lip, waiting for him to get upset.

He went from looking embarrassed to looking guilty. “You guys, its fine! They have chicken options. I wouldn’t want anyone to ever have to change plans for me.”

Jay was being such a good sport, but I felt bad I hadn’t warned him about where we were going.

The waitress came by to take our order and the wait went by quickly. Aubrey was catching us up on the details of the Spring Showcase for the dance majors. Not only was she performing in several pieces; she was also leading the behind the scenes side of things as one of the show’s producers.

Jay spoke a little about the latest small business interview he’d done. It was always a challenge to get him to talk about himself and his accomplishments. Most people in his situation would be bragging to every person they met.

He smoothly transitioned the conversation away from him by asking about Carter’s business. Brandon and Carter still worked together at a technology company they started in their college years. It had exploded into a major corporation within the last few years, making them both insanely successful for their age, but also insanely busy. Aubrey made them schedule date nights like tonight to make sure she saw him.

“What have you been working on, Mac?” Now that the conversation turned to me, I panicked. I couldn’t compare to them. Jay gently rubbed my arm under the table.

“Our senior projects are due soon, but I haven’t found a subject that inspires me.”

Carter nodded but looked confused. “Can’t you write about whatever you want? Why not ocean pollution? You’ve worked with groups on that before.”

He was right. It would be easy to do something I was familiar with. “This project can decide our careers. Two students from last year received offers within days of their projects being published on the school’s newspaper site. I can’t just do something easy. It needs to be groundbreaking.”

“That would be nice, but having a project to turn in is the most important thing.”

I groaned. “You sound like my mom.”

They all laughed at my misery. Such good friends.

Jay’s hand slowly made its way down my leg, and he lightly squeezed. I think he meant for it to be comforting but my lungs began to burn from holding my breath.

A pat on the shoulder after meeting a tough deadline. A few nudges to tease each other. A single hug after Sean left. That was the extent of our physical contact up until this very second. Even at his dad’s gala, he’d never even held my hand.

Without moving my head, I looked down and confirmed that it was indeed his hand on my leg and not my imagination.

For a few more seconds—I counted eleven but I can’t be held accountable for accuracy under those conditions—he lifted his hand to bring his drink to his lips. His very soft looking lips.

Oh help me.