Fake Friends

7 - I like him a lot.

My dry eyes burned and I realized I'd done it again—zoned out, staring at the computer, thinking of Nate instead of working. Leaning back, I rested my head against the chair and closed my eyes.

Since we'd texted and planned our date, he hadn't left my mind. His perfect smile. The way his face lit up when he said something that made me laugh. His quiet confidence, and the way everything he did seemed to be coated in joy. My heart raced at the prospect of seeing him again tonight.

When was the last time I'd been so excited about anything? A vacation, maybe? No. I didn't really take them. Christmas? Not really. As a child, looking forward to a morning of presents was fun, but it lacked the sense of freedom that accompanied my thoughts of Nate.

I sifted through my memory and the only thing close was waiting for the last day of school before summer break. That was it. I felt like a kid, counting down toward months of filling my days with people I loved, doing things I enjoyed.

Now I'd get to fill my evening with Nate. Gasping, I realized I had yet to plan anything. I told Nate I'd handle it, and I'd done nothing. My last few dates flashed through my mind, dusty images from the last several years of sitting across from someone in a dark corner of a bar or restaurant, doing nothing to draw attention and hoping not to be seen.

Disappointment weighed on my shoulders. That was not how I wanted to spend time with Nate. Especially not after the wonderful day we'd had in Savannah. Of course, we weren't dating then, but we'd walked together, in the open, talking and laughing, sharing bits of ourselves. I wanted more of that.

After thirty minutes of searching, I found a place that seemed ideal—Savor, a wine bar in Woodstock, almost an hour away. Just far enough to make being seen by anyone I knew very unlikely.

I called and made a reservation. Now, I'd just had to be sure I finished work by four in order to get ready and pick Nate up around five. That should give us plenty of time.

Just as I stood to head to the reception area to see how the morning was going, my cell rang, stopping me with Dad lighting up the screen. Unease filled me and I sat back at my desk before answering. "Hi, Dad."

"Hello! I hope you're not too busy for a call?"

I'd already squandered the last hour, and really needed to get busy, but this was the first time I'd heard from my father since coming out, and I wouldn't rush him off the phone. "No, not at all. What's going on?"

"Well, your mother and I were hoping you might have time for lunch tomorrow? You and Liv, both."

Did he think we could drop everything and run right back to Wayden at a day's notice? "I'm not sure, Dad. We just got back to work. I'd hate to take leave again so soon, and—"

"No, no," Dad stopped me. "We're coming to see you. We'd like to take you to lunch. Anywhere the two of you would like to go. Or right there at your hotel if that's easier? Whatever you want."

My mouth dropped open. "You're coming here? To Atlanta?"

"Yes." He laughed. "Don't sound so surprised. We've gone to the city lots of times."

"Yeah, but not in years. Mom hates it here."

"Oh, that's not true. She's looking forward to the trip. Besides, we all need to talk."

"Okay." There didn't seem to be any way to stop this. At least I could control it. "Here at the hotel would be great. I'll make a reservation. Would eleven be too early?" Maybe we could wrap things up before it got busy and there were too many people around.

"Eleven will be great. Can you let Liv know?"

I cringed as I imagined her response. "Sure. No problem."