“Oliver invited me to the St. Valentine Skate-a-thon this Friday night.” She attempts to unravel her scarf from around her neck, but is so frazzled, she only winds it tighter. Her arms flail in frustration as she struggles to extricate herself from a face full of flannel and fringe.
While I have no idea what a skate-a-thon is, that’s not my most pressing question. “Oliver invited you out on Valentine’s Day?”
“Yes. No. Maybe. I don’t know.” She finally frees herself, releasing a heavy exhale of relief as she hangs her scarf on the hook.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I think it might be a date, but I didn’t know that at first.” Shamefaced, she shrugs out of her coat.
“What did you do?” I say in my best scolding schoolteacher voice.
“I invited you to come with us.”
“What?” This is worse than I thought.
“I know, I know. The words sort of just… came out.” She flops onto the barstool beside me. “He ran into me at the coffee cart and said his sister told him about this fundraiser for the zoo at The Rink at Rockefeller Center and asked if I’d be interested in going. So, I said, ‘Sure. Sounds fun. Quincy and I would love to go.’”
I cringe, and she slumps forward on the counter, face-planting onto her forearms. “And that’s not the worst of it,” she groans.
Gathering a breath, I brace myself. “And what’s the worst part?”
“The Skate-a-thon is a couples event,” she explains, albeit a bit muffled as she’s still facedown, her mouth pressed against her sleeve. “You’re supposed to skate in pairs, holding hands the entire time. If you let go or stop skating, you’re disqualified. The last couple on the ice wins.”
“Sounds romantic,” I blurt offhand, then realize my mistake.
Brynn whimpers, and it strikes me that she actuallywantsto go on this date. Which, considering her previous reservations with all things Oliver related, is a huge step for her. “There’s an easy solution,” I say calmly. “I’ll stay home so you and Oliver can skate together.”
“Yeah, that would’ve been a good idea.” She slowly lifts her head, and her sheepish expression tells me I’m not going to like whatever she says next. “But I didn’t think of that at the time, so I came up with a different solution.”
“Which is…?”
“I said you’d be bringing a date.” This time, she has the decency to look contrite.
“Oh, Brynn. You didn’t,” I moan.
“I’m sorry. I realize now I should’ve made an excuse for why you couldn’t go after all, but by the time I thought of that, he’d already bought two extra tickets online. Maybe you can ask Javier?”
“No way,” I say hastily, then add after a moment’s thought, “But maybe Harper will go with me.”
“I’ll go,” Ethan says casually.
Brynn and I swivel toward him in surprise, as if we’d both forgotten he was there. He leans against the back counter, twirling the spindly noodles with his fork tines, his lips quirked in amusement.
“Um…” Brynn darts her gaze between us, a spark of panic in her eyes. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not? You need someone else to go with you, and I happen to be free.”
“But it’s not really your thing,” Brynn insists, trying a little too hard to sway him against the idea. “I doubt you’ll enjoy it.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He grins, and to my horror, glances in my direction.
Heat sweeps across my cheeks, and even though I divert my attention to the tangled web of pasta on my plate, I can feel Brynn’s gaze bore into me.
Part of me feels like I should jump in and say something to fix the situation…. But what, exactly?
“Then it’s settled,” Ethan says when Brynn runs out of reasons to protest. “You can be Oliver’s date, and I’ll be Quincy’s.”
Although his tone is lighthearted and teasing, the way he phrases his summation makes my cheeks flame even hotter, and I pray he doesn’t notice. Or Brynn, for that matter.