“Ugh, you’re stupid,” Scarlett mutters as we walk toward him. “He’s so hot.”
“Then why don’t you go out with him?” I ask through a smile as we approach.
“You know I would eat him up and spit him out. He’s too nice.”
It’s true. They would not mesh well together. Deacon seems to be the sensitive type—in tune with his feelings—so much so that it would not work with Scarlett. That’s probably why it wouldn’t work out with me and him either.
We’re not big express-your-feelings-type people, which is why Scarlett and I are best friends. We don’t deal with drama, we let it roll off our shoulders, and we aren’t easily offended, unlike some of the girls on our team. It’s also why we’re in a townhome by ourselves so we don’t have to deal with the complicated feelings of everyone else.
“Hey ladies,” Deacon says, standing from the booth and pulling us both into a hug.
“Oh, you smell nice. Did you catch a whiff of that, Indie?”
Yup, already regretting bringing her to this dinner.
I look up at Deacon and say, “Good job cleaning yourself.”
He laughs a good hearty laugh. “Thank you. Scrubbed all the deep parts of my body.”
“Cleanliness is key when it comes to landing a girl.” Scarlett takes a seat and lowers her ice. “Trust me, the dirty guys are talked about often in the locker rooms.”
“Whoa, what happened to your head?”
Scarlett pours herself some water from the pitcher on the table. “Freshman casualty. She was trying to prove herself and ran into me when not paying attention. Classic story of a rookie show-off. But lucky for her, my knee also crashed into her crotch and she was taken off the field telling everyone I broke her privates. I got off easy.”
“And here I thought only guys had it rough when it came to the crotch.”
I shake my head. “No, trust me, it hurts for a girl too.”
“Good to know.” He fidgets with his drink and looks toward the kitchen. “I ordered a large cheese pizza, I hope that’s okay.”
Scarlett takes one of the complimentary breadsticks and crunches down on it. “Love cheese. Thanks.” Chewing, she looks between the two of us and then groans. “If this is going to be awkward, I’m leaving.
“It’s not awkward. You’re making it awkward,” I snap at her.
I never should have brought her.
She points at her chest with her breadstick. “I’m making it awkward? Uh, no. You two can barely look at each other. Let’s just get it out in the open.” Scarlett taps Deacon on the hand with her breadstick and then points to me. “This one right here? Issues. Okay? She doesn’t know what she wants and even though you’re a great guy, you’ll only get hurt in the end.”
“Scarlett—”
“It’s true.”
“Yeah, but we already talked about it . . . sort of.”
Deacon clasps his hands together and like the kind soul that he is, he says, “Even though it would be awesome if Indie was interested in dating, I know that’s not the case. Linc warned me, and I still tried. But at least I gave it a shot.”
“Hold up,” I say, sitting taller. From the corner of my eye, I see Scarlett’s lips stretch into a full-on grin. “Lincoln warned you to stay away?”
“What? No.” Deacon shakes his head. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He’s backtracking, I can hear the fear in his voice. “I was just asking him about you because I saw how he looked at you. Anyway, he just mentioned that you might not be interested in a relationship.”
“He said that?”
“Uhh . . . something like that. He was nice though, told me maybe I might be the one who could change your mind. Not that I have those powers, but you know, maybe you would be open to me, but we know that’s not the case and Jesus Christ, I’m actually sweating.”
“Oh this is so much fun. I’m glad I came,” Scarlett says, chewing loud enough for the table next to us to hear.
“Please don’t be mad at him. He didn’t do anything wrong, and I never should have said anything.” Poor Deacon, an innocent slip of the tongue and his brow is breaking out in a sweat. See? Too nice for me.
“It’s fine,” I say, even though it doesn’t feel fine in my chest. I want to leave this restaurant right now and charge toward Lincoln’s house to confront him. I don’t need him speaking on my behalf, especially about my dating life. But poor Deacon looks like he’s about to have a nervous breakdown, which is why I find myself saying, “It’s cool. No problem. We’re here because we’re friends and we’re hanging out, trying to figure out who would be perfect for Deacon.”
“Uh-huh,” Scarlett says, annoyingly. I kick her under the table, and she buckles over.
“Oh sorry, was that your shin?”
“You know damn well it was,” she says through clenched teeth.
Just then, the pizza arrives and we clear the center of the table to make room for the giant pie.
Before we dig in, Deacon clears his throat and says, “Maybe we should start this dinner over.” Addressing Scarlett he says, “You scare me.” She laughs out loud. And then he turns to me. “We’re friends.”
“Could not have said it any better.”
Picking up a piece of pizza, he says, “Now tell me about this freshman who clocked you in the head; is she hot?”
“She’s hot for sure,” Scarlett says with a teasing voice. “But she’s also a lesbian, so I don’t think your burly man bod is going to do it for her.”
“Okay, next.” He chuckles and we start going over the single girls on our team.
We spend the rest of the night pulling up pictures on our phones, getting a feel for Deacon’s type, and diving deep into his need to be in a relationship. He really enjoys spoiling his girl, doting on her, and even though I’m not there with him, it does make my heart grow fonder of Deacon. I want to find him the perfect person.
Deacon and I split the bill—I made him—then Scarlett goes to the bathroom while Deacon and I head out to the front of the restaurant to wait for her.
“Do you think Kennedy will be at the party this weekend?” Deacon asks about the girl we all agreed upon for him.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thanks.” He pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “I’m really grateful that we could be friends, Indie.”
I look up and prop my chin on the barrel of his chest. “I am too.”
“Uh, hey.”
Deacon and I both turn to see Lincoln standing in a pair of sweats, wearing a Brentwood Baseball shirt and a hat that makes his eyes almost impossible to see.
“Hey man,” Deacon says, releasing me.
Lincoln looks between the two of us and clears his throat while pulling on the back of his neck and looking at the ground. “Picking up pizza for the guys. If I knew you were here, I would have made you bring it home.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
Silence falls between us, and it has officially become the most awkward moment of my life.
“Haven’t seen you around,” Lincoln says to me.