Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“First of all, I truly appreciate everything you did last week,” she says, her tone earnest, her hands twisted around the strap of the bag. “I wasn’t really in a good place, obviously, and…you were kind of amazing.”
That’s a damn good start. “I’m glad we ran into each other,” I say simply, though inside, every nerve in my body is taut.
She gives me a small, grateful smile. “Me too. Really glad it was you.”
Hell yes. My brain starts playing her words from that night on a loop, like a greatest-hits album of everything I’ve ever wanted to hear.
I have this whole fantasy that starts with your beard. I keep thinking about how it’d feel. I keep wondering, too, about those arms. How you could pin me down. I wonder about your mouth. I can’t stop thinking about how you might kiss me. Everywhere.
It was tequila-fueled honesty, but the memory of her voice, bold and fearless, is seared into my mind.
“Same here,” I say, the words slipping out before I can stop them. My pulse quickens as we lean slightly closer, and this is it. This is the moment. But just as I open my mouth to ask her out, she speaks again, her voice softer now.
“And I want to say thank you,” she says.
I pause, letting her finish. My mom would hand me my ass if I didn’t listen to a woman. My grandmother too.
“You don’t have to,” I reply, shaking my head. “Truly, you don’t.”
“But I do.” She’s almost pleading now, her voice raw. “You were there for me when I was incredibly vulnerable. And, honestly, drunk,” she adds, her cheeks flushing pinker. “I don’t know if I would’ve gotten through that night without you to talk to, to…share things with.” Her gaze flickers away to the ice, and to a woman setting up for another lesson, before coming back to mine. “I just feel really fortunate. So I wanted to get you something.”
Like a real chance with you?
She reaches into her bag, her fingers brushing the edge of something inside. For one stupid second, I imagine it’s something meaningful—an invitation, a gesture, a sign she’s about to give me the green light.
Then she pulls out…a mug. She thrusts it at me with a little shrug, her smile both shy and teasing. “It’s not much, but I was trying to make light of the situation.”
I take it, turning the ceramic in my hands. There’s an illustration of a St. Bernard on one side and the words: “Sorry About Your St. Bernard Ex, But Here’s to Better Dogs Ahead.”
A laugh bursts out of me before I can stop it. “This is…” Perfect. Funny. Completely Sabrina.
And maybe, a little promising? Hell, it feels like a good sign if she can make a joke about her sex confessions in the light of day.
She grins, her face lighting up like it did the first time I saw her smile at Luna. “You said it was a shame there wasn’t a card for that, so I figured—why not a mug? Oh, and—” She reaches into her bag again and pulls out the Sea Dogs hoodie I left behind. “I washed it, air-dried it. Thought you might want this back too.”
The second she hands it over, I know. This isn’t the beginning of something—it’s the end of the best fantasy I’ve ever had.
And just like that, my stomach sinks. She’s not here to talk about taking me up on her offer. She’s here to apologize and return my shit.
With reluctance, I take the hoodie, briefly toying with saying something like, “You can keep it.”
But what’d be the point? I’d just be some parent of one of her students pushing my team’s merchandise on her. Not cool.
“This is really thoughtful of you,” I say, keeping my tone friendly. “Honestly, I love the mug. But I swear, you didn’t have to do this.”
She winces, frowning. “But I did,” she insists. “You were a total gentleman, and I threw myself at you. You’re the father of one of my students, and…I’m so embarrassed, Tyler,” she says, her lip quivering briefly before she steels herself with a deep breath.
A fueling one, it seems, because she continues on, her voice stronger now. “I just want you to know it was the margaritas talking. The tequila, and…and all the emotional trauma of that day. I just…I feel awful, and I wanted to reassure you that I’d love to keep teaching Luna.”
Her words hit like a slap shot to the chest. Any hope I had of a date? So far gone they’re sailing out into the ocean. My shoulders sink, but I force a small, tight smile. “Sabrina, you’re a fantastic teacher. My daughter adores you. You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all.” Then, I pause, girding myself to say the harder thing, but the damn necessary thing. “If we can just pretend that night never happened, everything will be fine.”