The Jock Script (The Script Club 3)

When I almost chopped my finger off, I tried another approach. I silenced every device and let the quiet seep in. I flattened my palms on the quartz countertop and sucked in a breath of air, releasing it with a slow whistle.

Shit. I was a bigger mess than I thought. I couldn’t drown out the noise, I couldn’t handle quiet, and I hated being alone. I needed…something. Or someone. I needed help.

But there was no one to call.

Don’t worry, I had friends. I could ask Ezra to meet me at a bar or invite someone over, but the schtick was the same. We’d talk about work, sports, and girls…which would lead back to the inevitable, “Why the fuck did you break up with Katie?”

Nope. I couldn’t do it.

So…that was the short and very odd story of how I’d resorted to messaging an anonymous booty call for life-hack advice.

My hand shook and sweat beaded on my forehead as I typed.

Hi, remember me? I know we said last week was a one-time deal and I respect that. But I had a couple of sensitive questions and you were the first person I thought of. Are you free to meet for coffee this weekend?

I pressed Send and tossed my cell next to the pile of diced carrots. It buzzed a moment later.

Are you joking, Richard? I’m not well-versed in cyber sarcasm in the medium of an application format dedicated to hookups. Perhaps you meant to send this message to someone else? Regards, A

I grinned.

No, it was for you. Who’s A?

That’s the first initial of my real name, which will remain a secret. Coffee is a bad idea, but thank you for the invitation. Best of luck to you.

Just thirty minutes of your time. Coffee only. We can meet at Cup O’ Joe’s on Colorado. My treat. Please.

Three dancing dots lit the screen, then disappeared. I stared at the message thread, willing something to pop up.

Nothing.

I picked up the knife and chopped another carrot. Okay. It was a weird request, but worth a shot. Or maybe he’d done us both a favor. It wasn’t like I could—

All right. My curiosity is piqued. I’ll grant you thirty minutes. Eleven a.m. on Saturday.

Thank you. I’ll see you then.

I pushed my phone aside and reached for the remote. I felt ridiculously…lighter. In spite of the fact that this was probably a big fucking mistake.

Canceling was always a viable option.

I’d nearly called off our coffee “date” a few times over the following forty-eight hours. I’d written a “Sorry, can’t make it,” text and left it on my screen, ready and waiting for me to push Go. But between coaching, teaching, and my own schoolwork, I was too busy to overthink it.

I mean…yes, I did overthink it, but the excess work helped. As did the girls’ early Saturday morning game. I had just enough time to shower before walking into Old Town. Parking in that area was especially rough on the weekends, and I didn’t want to be late. I made a beeline for the counter, ordered two coffees, and found a corner table near the window with ten minutes to spare.

I scooted my chair back to give myself a little leg room and bumped the patron behind me. “Sorry about that. I—you’re here.”

And looking very fucking cute…and oddly professional for a casual Saturday coffee date. His hair was perfectly combed and his well-pressed, short-sleeved red button-down shirt complemented his red-framed glasses. He tapped a pen against a small notepad in a leather-bound book and gave me a sharp look I couldn’t quite read.

“Good morning,” he replied. “I arrived a tad early. Would you care to join me, or shall I move to your table?”

“Join me at this one. I’ve got a better view.” I pointed out the window, then slid a cup across the table. “This is for you.”

“No, thank you.” He raised his iced coffee as he settled into the chair opposite me. “We may have had relations, but I don’t know you. I can’t accept a potentially unattended drink from a stranger. It’s entirely unsafe. Now…what can I help you with, Richard?”

I furrowed my brow. “You still think I’m going to kill you?”

He shook his head slowly. “I admit that the likelihood is exceedingly low, but our initial meeting was less than typical, so it’s best to proceed with caution.”

“You’re priceless,” I snickered.

“Hmph. Well?” he prodded.

“Gimme a minute. I haven’t had enough caffeine this morning. Why don’t you tell me how you’ve been first?”

He cocked his head. “I’m fine. I have nothing exciting to report.”

“Good.” I sipped my coffee and pushed the extra one toward the middle of the table. “I was kinda surprised that you didn’t delete your profile.”

“Me too. I don’t know why I haven’t yet.”

“Did you use it again?” I asked, chuckling at his immediate frown.