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It’s such a nice day out, sunny and not too hot, so we decide to linger outside the entrance area as we listen for our number to be called.
In an attempt to make conversation, so as to keep my mind from wandering to thoughts of Willow, I jerk my chin to the chalkboard easel on the sidewalk with today’s specials listed on it and ask Nils, “Do you think you’ll order any of those?”
He checks the specials out and, after a few seconds, replies, “Yeah. The Reuben sandwich with fresh-cut fries sounds good. I may go with that one.”
“That does sound tasty,” I agree. “But I’m leaning to the Cajun chicken on a baguette with homemade cole slaw.”
“That’s a good option too,” he says, nodding.
Just then our number is called. I’m glad we didn’t have to give the hostess one of our names and have attention drawn to us. No one has approached us yet, but I think people are just used to seeing hockey players in and around this part of town.
Still, we did ask for a table with some privacy. We seem to be going to get exactly that, as the hostess is leading us to the back of the bistro.
It’s busy and noisy inside, but the single booth she directs us to is set apart from the many tables.
Perfect.
Once we’re seated, I try not to look around. I just pick up my menu and review the selections. I don’t want to accidentally make eye contact with a rabid Thunder fan who may want an autograph. I’m just not feeling it today. I notice Nils is doing the same thing, busying himself with reading the menu.
But then something, I don’t know what, compels me to scan the restaurant just one time.
Bad idea.
“Fuck,” I grind out.
Nils looks up from his menu and peers over at me. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
I state flatly, “Willow is here.”
Since he doesn’t know she and I are on the outs, as I haven’t mentioned anything yet, he starts to glance around. “Cool,” he says. “Where is she? Do you want to invite her over to our booth? I can finally meet her.”
“No, no,” I hiss under my breath. “And quit looking around. She’s not alone. She’s with some dude.”
“Okay, so what?” He shrugs. “What’s the big deal? You guys are just friends, right?”
I’m so jealous right now that my blood feels like it’s literally boiling. It really irks me that Willow is so engrossed in talking, and fuckinglaughing, with the nerdy guy she’s with that she hasn’t even noticed me.
Trying to remain calm, I tell Nils, “Yeah, we’re just friends. But this weekend, we kind of had a falling-out.”
“A falling-out?” My poor teammate looks thoroughly confused. “Over what?”
I just wave it off since I don’t want to explain how we fell asleep together and I woke up with Willow on top of me.
Or how I put my arms around her.
And I really don’t want to confess how good it all felt.
So I mutter, “It was nothing. It’s not important.”
But it is important. It is because watching Willow enjoy herself with some random dude makes me miss her like nobody’s business. I also realize I don’t want tonottalk to her, like what we’ve been doing.
I guess I don’t want space after all.
So whatdoI want?
You wanther, you asshat.
Too bad it looks like I’m too late.
