Cursing himself as an idiot, he began laying his notes back out. Break time was over, and he had plenty of work to keep him busy.
Avery looked over at him as he opened his laptop again, her eyes narrowed. At what? His effrontery at actually staying put while she had her date? He was here first. She was the one who’d interrupted him, with her smiles and enthusiasm and chatter about books and small town living. He had work to do. He could’ve been a complete jerk and sent her packing when she sat down, but no, he’d been polite. Conversational.
And interested, damn it.
Dillon’s gaze strayed back to Avery. He couldn’t hear their quiet conversation over the music that piped through the speakers, but she certainly wasn’t as animated with Ross as she had been talking to him. She was nervous again. Beneath the edge of the table, her hands twisted in her lap. Her smile seemed a little strained around the edges.
Was that his fault? Had he made her feel even more awkward over that blind date than she already did? Dillon felt a prick of guilt at that. He hadn’t intended to make things more difficult for her, just wanted to enjoy the chance circumstance that had brought her to his table.
It didn’t matter. What was done was done and couldn’t be taken back.
He had work to do. Determined to finish what he’d come here for, Dillon whipped his books back out, opened his files and did his best to focus on the task at hand. His grade and Noelle’s were counting on it.
He lasted all of fifteen minutes. The damned flower sat there in his periphery, its bright orange petals taunting him, indirectly dragging his focus back to Avery.
She wasn’t even laughing. What kind of a date couldn’t at least make her chuckle to put her at ease?
Catching her glancing his way again, Dillon made a goofy face. One corner of her mouth twitched before she quickly shifted her attention back to Ross. The guy seemed to be recounting some incredibly detailed…something…with visual aids. He was drawing on the pad he’d brought, and Avery was struggling to look appropriately serious, nodding and interjecting the occasional question. Those long, slim fingers tapped against her mug.
Dillon tucked the daisy behind his ear, laced both fingers under his chin, and batted his eyes at her in a wholly exaggerated fashion. Though she didn’t look directly at him, he knew Avery could see him from the corner of her eye when she let loose one short bark of laughter that she quickly covered with a coughing fit.
“You okay?” asked Ross.
“Yeah, yeah. I just swallowed wrong. Please, go on.” Eyes on her date, Avery made a shooing motion at Dillon from beneath the table.
He smothered a grin behind one of the books.
You are a bad bad boy, he thought.
Vowing to behave, he turned his attention back to the computer screen and pretended to work for a few minutes, weaving Noelle’s notes in with his own and making notations about where he needed to expand points with support from the class texts.
This whole situation needed musical accompaniment. Something other than the low key jazz favored by the coffee shop. Dillon dug through his eclectic and extensive music collection until he found what he was looking for. Yes, this will do very nicely. He hit play and Celine Dion belted out the chorus to “All By Myself” loud enough to echo off the high raftered ceiling.
Avery and her date both turned toward him with WTF? expressions.
“Sorry! Sorry.” Dillon plugged his headphones into the correct port on his laptop and managed not to laugh. The devil made me do it.
Avery laid a hand over Ross’s and gave him the first genuine smile Dillon had seen her muster since she left his table. “You wanna get out of here?”
Ross looked over his shoulder at Dillon again. “Sounds like a great idea.”
Jealousy was an ugly shade of green.
They rose and headed for the stairs.
Look back, thought Dillon. C’mon, look back at me.
But Avery never turned as she descended from view. The last thing Dillon heard her say was something about an example of antebellum architecture she thought Ross might like to see. Then they were gone and his window of opportunity slammed closed for good.
~*~
“—and then he walks up and says he’s my date. I’ve been sitting there for forty-five minutes talking to this guy and he never said a word to correct my assumption. It was mortifying.” Avery’s footsteps thudded against the stairs for emphasis as she climbed toward the third floor of City Hall.
Brooke slurped her to go cup of sweet tea. “What did your actual date say?”
“He was remarkably cool about the whole thing. Really polite. Which is more than I can say for Mr. Fake Date. We’re sitting across the room, trying to get through all that initial blind date awkwardness, which was completely made worse by my gaffe, and the guy is making faces behind Ross’s back. Ross was giving this completely earnest explanation of some architectural history thing, and it was all I could do not to fall over laughing.”
“There are worse things than a man who can make you laugh,” observed Brooke.