Hit Me With Your Best Shot: A Sports Romance Anthology by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Purple Prose Press LLC
Published: 2024-03-14T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWO

LILA

THEN

“Lila, how many fries do you think I can fit in my mouth at once?”

“Yeah, I’m not answering that.”

My best friend picks up a handful, sizing them up. “At least, like, twenty, right?”

“If you try that shit, I’m walking out of this diner without you.”

Callum feigns hurt, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. “Such a buzzkill.”

“Such a show-off.”

NOW

The neon sign of Joe’s Diner flickers like a beacon in the night, promising greasy comfort food and a tiny slice of nostalgia. I follow Callum inside, the bell above the door announcing our arrival.

The smell of fried onions and coffee grounds hit me, and for a moment, I’m fourteen again, without the weight of term papers and thesis projects on my shoulders.

“Looks the same, doesn’t it?” Callum says, his voice low as he scans the diner, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah, like it’s frozen in time,” I say, taking in the red vinyl booths and the faded movie posters on the walls. I remember us, young and carefree, discussing our future dreams over milkshakes and shared fries.

Somehow, through fate or friendship, we both ended up staying near home, ensnared in this old college town.

“Pick your poison.” Callum grins, gesturing to the vinyl menu as we slide into a booth that’s seen better days. We’re not here for gourmet—Joe’s is about the memories, those innocent confessions and tentative first steps away from adolescence.

I order a cheeseburger and a vanilla shake, the same as I used to, and Callum echoes me. Our knees brush under the table, a spark of warmth, a faded ember of our chemistry. It’s comfortable, familiar, and for a second, it’s easy to forget the distance college has put between us.

“So, how’s the architecture life treating you?” Callum asks, his elbows resting on the table, eyes fixed on me with genuine interest.

“It’s . . . a lot,” I admit, tracing the rim of my water glass. “But it’s what I’ve always wanted, I guess.”

He nods, his smile encouraging. “And you’ll be great at it. Always had a thing for building stuff.”

I laugh because we both know it’s an understatement. Even as kids, I was the one making forts and tree houses, and Callum was right there beside me, handing over nails and the old pieces of wood we’d foraged for, trusting my vision.

The food arrives, and for a while, we’re lost in the taste of Joe’s special sauce and the crispy fries. It’s a reprieve from the weight of what’s unsaid—the lingering questions about us, about what might have been if life hadn’t pulled us in different orbits. If I hadn’t forced it to.

If I hadn’t chosen to distance myself because I was tired . . . of looking at him, of sharing space with him, of spending time with him, and not actually being with him.

After we eat, the question hangs in the air. What now? I’m not ready for the night to end, and by the tentative look in Callum’s eyes, neither is he.

“Do you .

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