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Peyton: I feel like last night was a pretty big clue that you and I aren’t meant to be together.
Austin: Maybe, but I’d still like to talk if you’re willing to hear me out. I’m not making excuses, but I do have a reason for what happened.
Peyton struggled to come up with any reason on the planet that would excuse the guy’s behavior. Even if he was unlearning bad habits and casual racism, the guy should have checked himself after Peyton’s reactions. But he also struggled with telling anyone no, as much as he wanted to.
He chewed on his lower lip and there was a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hudson’s telling him that this guy wasn’t owed his time. That Peyton’s gut instinct was right, and that he should just say no.
But then the panic set in, with the cold sweats. He knew he should just work through it, but instinct took over and he found himself typing:Fine. Give me a call if you want.
His phone rang half a second later, and Peyton forced himself to take a long breath before answering, trying to hear over the sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his ear.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Austin said with a breath of relief. “I thought you were going to tell me to go fuck myself.”
“I’m not that mean,” Peyton said, and he regretted that it was the truth because sometimes he wished he could be. Just every now and again, when the person deserved it.
Austin laughed softly. “Look, I didn’t want to say this on the date, but you’re the first person I’ve been with since my ex and…I panicked. You kind of reminded me of him—like, in a good way,” Austin added quickly. “All the things I will always love about him. And I don’t know. I just came down with a bad case of foot-in-mouth.”
Peyton chewed on his lower lip and hesitated because his gut was telling him that Austin was full of shit, but the rest of him was saying that everyone deserved a second chance. It wasn’t like he hadn’t made an ass out of himself when things got awkward from time to time.
He wished he knew where to draw the line sometimes.
“But you can still tell me to go fuck myself and I’ll totally understand,” Austin said into the tense silence. “I know I deserve it.” There was a hint of a whine in his voice that set Peyton on edge, but he shook it off.
“I’m not really sure this is going to work out,” he admitted slowly, “but if you really think there might be something here, I’d be willing to accept a do-over.”
Austin let out a relieved laugh. “Yeah?”
No, Peyton’s head supplied. “Yes,” his mouth said, betraying him. God, why was he like this. “I can make some time.”
“How about tomorrow night? We’ll keep it casual. Those upscale restaurants always make me a little nervous.”
Peyton managed a smile in spite of himself. “Yeah, me too.”
“Can I pick you up this time?” Austin asked.
Peyton immediately bristled. “Uh, no. No, but…” He searched for a compromise. “If things go well, maybe you can pick me up next time.”
Austin laughed again. “Okay, yeah. I’ll take it. Thanks, Pay.”
Peyton bristled again because he fucking hated that nickname. His brother and best friend called him Peyt, which he always kind of liked, but that was reserved for the people in his life who loved him. Pay was the thing all the horrible jocks used to call him in school when they thought he was the “smart Asian kid” and they were trying to butter him up so he’d do their homework for them. Of course, that quickly fizzled into insults when they found out that while he was smart, he was also an executive-functioning disaster who couldn’t even get his own shit turned in on time.
So yeah. It was a no on Pay.
He took a breath and found his courage. “It’s Peyton.”
“Oh,” Austin said, sounding surprised. “You don’t think Pey’s cute?”
“It’s not my favorite,” he answered, leaning against the counter and staring at his cookie dough.
“Well, maybe you can make an exception for me,” Austin wheedled, then laughed again. “Anyway, I have to go, but I’ll text you details, yeah?”
“Uh…yeah,” Peyton said quietly.
The line went dead, and his heart sank toward his feet because he had a feeling the second date wasn’t going to go half as well as the first.
That evening, Peyton found himself heaving several boxes of expertly portioned and packed cookie dough through the door of BrewBiz. He’d texted with Caleb a couple of times who wasn’t in, but his assistant manager, Wren was handling the front of house business.
