Not So Far Away (Worlds Collide The Duets #1) - LL Meyer Page 0,39

sun. After spending my day off with the walls of my apartment pressing in on me, I came to find some peace of mind at my favorite spot by the water. Unfortunately, sitting on my bench watching the joggers and the bicyclists go by on the San Francisco Bay Trail, and the planes coming in for a landing at SFO over the water, isn’t quite as soothing as it usually is.

Beside me, my phone vibrates on the wooden slats of the bench. I check the screen and my stomach lurches at the sight of Scott’s name. Damnit. There will be no butterflies – none. I forbid it.

It’s 6:15. Around the same time he picked me up last week.

Scott: U feel like doing something?

Very last minute. Very casual, very acquaintance-like. Very no one important.

Ellie: I’m not at home.

Childishly, I like that I’m not sitting around waiting for him . . . but then the thought of not seeing him fills me with nothing but regret. The conflicting emotions only serve to annoy me. I hate it when I’m pathetic.

It’s quite possible I’m being overly dramatic. Scott doesn’t owe me anything. He’s happy to be casual friends. Managing my expectations isn’t his job, it’s mine. If I boil it all down, my life is a lot less empty with him in it. I like his company. Shouldn’t I be adult enough to accept that without needing more?

My ringtone sounds and I frown. It’s Scott. Calling me?

“Hello?”

“Opal. Are you ditching me on a Friday night?” His tone is playful, and unexpected.

“Uh . . . sorry? I guess I didn’t get the memo about us having plans.”

“Yeah, I know. I should have asked you earlier. Busy week,” he explains sheepishly. “So you’re not home?”

There’s disappointment in his voice, perplexing disappointment that has me thinking I missed something somewhere. “No, I’m up by Coyote Point.”

“Coyote Point?” He pauses. “What are you doing up there?”

“Uh . . .” Apparently, I’m very articulate today. “Just watching the planes come in over the bay.”

He’s quiet for a second too long, then asks, “By yourself?”

“Yep.” Who cares if I sound lame? We’re only acquaintances.

“You want some company?”

“I, ah, guess. You sure you want to drive up here?” I ask doubtfully, thinking traffic would be awful at this time of day.

“I don’t have anything else going on.”

And there it is. What an ass.

But then he adds, “And if that’s where you are, that’s where I want to be.”

A small moment of silence hangs between us while I grapple with my surprise.

“You eaten yet?” he goes on casually, like he hasn’t pulled the rug out from under me.

“Oh, no, I haven’t.”

“Okay, where are you exactly?”

I give him directions, explaining that I’m not actually in the Coyote Point Park – I can’t afford the parking fee – but near a smaller public park that’s closer to home. “I’m right at the end of the street at the water.”

“Sounds easy enough. See you in twenty.”

He hangs up before I can say anything else, and I’m left staring down at my phone, nonplussed. A warm, tingly sensation seeps into my bones, making it very difficult to be stern with myself. But I’ve got to at least try. While I wait for him, I go over the changes I’m going to have to make to keep my friendship with Scott on an even footing. No more expectations. I need to stay cool and keep myself as uninvested as he is. Slipping out of the friend zone and into unrequited love territory would be destructive on so many levels, not to mention pitiful.

He shows up a half an hour later with his hands full, one carrying a bag of Chipotle takeout, and the other with a tray holding two Starbucks cups.

I drink in every single inch of him. He got a haircut sometime this week, and he’s wearing a thin blue pullover that stretches nicely across his chest. Why do I have to be attracted to him?

“Hey,” he says, setting everything down between us. “Nice spot.”

“Yeah. You didn’t have to bring all this.”

“Well, I’m starving and I thought it would be rude to eat in front of you.” He digs in the bag for his burrito, expertly ripping the foil from the top half, then he pulls out a half-full bottle of hot sauce.

I laugh. “Did you steal that from the restaurant?”

“No,” he scoffs good-naturedly. “If there’s any left when I’m done, I’ll return it.”

“Uh huh. Sure you will.” Damn, I love the teasing rhythm that