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Weston takes a small step closer, and my grin falters a bit. “I was hoping…maybe you’d find the time to come with us. But I’d like you to think about it after you go on a date with me.”
This is what you’ve been waiting for, Hollyn.
Jump.
“What do you say?”
My brain warp speeds to Reid and that kiss. It was raw and empowering.
Empowering for me to do this.
What I wanted.
“I’d love to,” I surmise evenly, balling my fingers into fists. “I’d love to go out with you.”
HOLLYN
This wasn’t how I imagined it.
I visualized candles and dressing up in a cute dress that was a little too tight and something you wouldn’t wear out in public to go shopping. So, I opted for something more casual, hoping that if I was slightly underdressed, it wouldn’t be noticed.
But I’m overdressed.
My date with Weston is at a dive bar where everyone is wearing jeans and t-shirts. Where the waitresses are in skimpy shorts and crop tops, getting eye-fucked by every dude in the place.
Including Weston.
I’m not sure what tipped him off to take me here, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and thought maybe it was a place he’d feel more comfortable. That, with its easygoing atmosphere, we’d talk more about each other versus him talking about himself all through drinks, the appetizers, and the blonde waitress who keeps coming back for no reason at all.
Except to give Weston another glimpse of her ass that he takes full advantage of.
I’m turned off.
I’m done.
This is, by far, the worst date I’ve been on, and I’m ready to go. Not only is he being disrespectful, but he hasn’t spoken once about the hockey camp that he was so passionate about two nights ago. I thought that his involvement in practice today—which Reid didn’t take too lightly—was to show me that he was trying his best, and it was something he wanted me to take notice of.
I did.
Now, I’m not.
Weston is on his fifth tequila, and now he’s starting to slur his words. He didn’t even ask for a chaser, and, again, this isn’t what I imagined at all in my head. I’m disappointed and tired, and all I want to do is forget this ever happened, order DoorDash, and tell Reid the plan is off. I’ll continue with my end of it, but Weston is officially not someone I’m interested in anymore.
“You’ve barely drank anything,” Weston points out, the first thing he’s noticed about me since I waltzed in here.
He didn’t compliment how I looked. He didn’t stand from his chair. He didn’t do anything but sip on the same glass and study the surrounding area.
“Not a big drinker,” I reply flatly. “So, why don’t you tell me about the boys’ camp? Where is it? And what is the price per family—”
“Eh.” Weston throws a dismissive hand in front of him and looks bored as all hell. “It was an idea. Something I came up with.”
My brows rise because no crap. “I know. You told me about it.”
Weston’s brown eyes flick to me. “Did I?” He snaps his fingers, then. “That’s right. After I saw you making out with Reid Pierce and all his pro-hockey glory.”
I open my mouth to get us back on track with the conversation, but Weston decides that he’s not fully done yet.
“Who does that guy think he is, anyway? He acts as though he’s better than me when clearly he’s not.”
