Pucker Up Series by Sara Hubbard

Author:Sara Hubbard [Hubbard, Sara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781988212289
Publisher: Sara Hubbard

Chapter 4

Michael and I meet up the following Wednesday after one of his practices. We plan on meeting at ten o’clock at night, again at Tillerman Rink. I’m going to end up spending an awful lot on cabs to come out here for my community service all the time.

He doesn’t show up at ten. I wait for him in the entrance while Gus putters around collecting garbage. After checking my watch a few times, it’s now ten-thirty, and I’m pretty sure I’ve been stood up.

“Hey, Gus!” I call out.

He straightens and lowers his garbage bag. His gaze scans the area around him before he realizes I’m the one shouting.

“You haven’t seen Michael around here tonight, have you?”

He shakes his head. “Not tonight. I have his number. Want me to call him?”

I make a face and let out a sigh. “No, I have his number.” I tap out a text quickly and send it before sliding my phone into my jacket pocket. I’m not waiting around much longer. My days of waiting around on guys are over. Even if this one is trying to help me.

When I decide I won’t wait another minute I say good-bye to Gus and leave.

He couldn’t even text me to say he was going to be late? That’s just inconsiderate. Typical. The moon is out and there are dark grey clouds against the black sky. I call for a cab, but the only cab company in town tells me I’ll have to wait an hour because there’s Bingo at the Salvation Army tonight. Awesome. I’m not waiting another hour. I shove my hands in my pockets and start walking. It’s near freezing out, but I dressed warmly, so it doesn’t bother me. Except my nose. You could hang an icicle from it.

I get about a quarter of a mile down the road before a car passes by. I hear it shift gears behind me, and when I look over my shoulder, Michael’s big SUV is doing a four-point turn. He drives back toward me and rolls to a stop when he reaches me.

“I’m so sorry,” he says.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Really, I am.”

“Look, I know you’re doing this as a favor to Ozzie and you don’t owe me anything, but don’t be an asshole. If you say you’re going to be here at a certain time, be here. Or, at least, call. You have my number. There’s no excuse.” I won’t be anyone’s doormat, least of all some jock’s.

He leans to the side as he reaches into his back pocket. He holds out his phone. “It died, or I would have called you. I was going to use one of the guys’s phones, but your number’s programmed into my phone.”

My boil cools to a simmer.

“I was at practice, and it was only supposed to go until nine-thirty, but coach Handler got pissed off about…it doesn’t matter. He’s always pissed off, and I should have warned you I could be late. It went long, and I’m sorry.”

His explanation is reasonable. I’d be an asshole not to accept it.

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