The Christmas Cookie Crush (Arcadian Falls Christmas #4)

Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Nora

Austin’s the perfect gentleman, holding open doors for me, offering me his arm on the slippery sidewalk, especially when he realizes I’m wearing cute heeled boots instead of winter boots with actual traction.

That wasn’t my intention when I chose these shoes, but as we walk from his car to the restaurant with my hand securely clutching his arm, I’m not upset about this turn of events.

It’s a relief to be able to admit that I’m attracted to him without feeling like I shouldn’t be. We’ve both grown up. He apologized, both for his behavior when we were kids and for the little prank after moving back. And it’s clear to me that his intention, at least this time, was always to try to connect with me. Even the Warheads he had someone bring me were supposed to be a joke, not piss me off.

And it’s beyond time to let go of something from half a lifetime ago.

I didn’t tell anyone that I had a date with Austin tonight, though. I just said I had plans after work so Mom and Dad know not to worry about including me for dinner. Even so, Mom’ll save me leftovers from whatever’s on the menu tonight. And while I wouldn’t care if Mom and Dad know, or even Ty and Olivia, I don’t want to hear Dylan’s opinion of me going on a date with his childhood best friend.

Sure, eventually it’ll come out. But that can wait until later.

Right now, I just want to enjoy this for what it is—a nice dinner with a cute boy who’s apparently been trying to get to know me better since I got back to Arcadian Falls for Christmas Break.

Once we’re seated, we both take our time studying the menu. I’m not sure if he’s nervous—though I’d guess so—but I know I am. And I spend an inordinate amount of time studying the options, even though I picked what I’m going to order nearly immediately. I just need the excuse to figure out what to talk about. I mean, I’m curious about him of course. But do I just jump right into the deep end of questions? Or should I warm up with something more surface, like how he’s handling the long hours of ChristmasFest and what he’s planning to do after?

Finally, I close the menu and set it down, sipping from my water glass while looking around the restaurant. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. It’s usually a tourist haunt during the times I’m home, so I tend to avoid it. Too crowded. Long waits. Not worth the effort when I could grab something quick elsewhere or just eat at home.

Austin clears his throat, drawing my attention. “You know what you’re going to order?” he asks.

And it seems we’re starting with surface questions.

I nod and tell him.

He grins. “That’s what I was going to order.”

I raise my eyebrows, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Is that a bad thing? Do you feel like you need to change your order now?”

That makes him laugh, and he shakes his head. “No. Why would I do that? Isn’t having similar taste in food a good thing?”

I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “I dated a guy for a while last year who hated ordering the same thing as anyone else. When we went out, either just the two of us or in a group, he’d quiz everyone on their orders before deciding on his. And heaven forbid everyone picks his top three choices, because then he’d take forever studying the menu again to decide what else to get.”

Austin’s eyebrows climb his forehead the longer I talk. “That sounds …”

“Terrible?” I supply when it seems he’s at a loss for words.

Laughing, he nods.

“Yeah, it was pretty terrible. It got to the point where I refused to invite him along for group things because he just pissed off everyone. And then he’d get mad at me for hanging out with people without him when he used to be invited. We had a big fight about it and broke up.” Austin looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh or smile. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “You can laugh. It’s entirely ridiculous.”

A grin splits his face, and he leans back in his chair, covering his mouth with his hand as he laughs. “Who officially broke up with who?” he asks at last.

I shrug. “I told everyone it was mutual because I was too embarrassed to admit that he was the one who said we were over.” I lean forward and lower my voice. “It should’ve been me.”

“It absolutely should’ve been you. How long did you date this guy?”

Shrugging, I straighten and twirl my water glass, doing the mental math. “A few months? I think five.” I meet his eyes and grin. “Too long.” He nods, trying to keep his face solemn. “What about you?” I pivot. “Who’s the most ridiculous person you’ve dated?”

He screws up his face in thought, then shakes his head. “You know? I can’t think of anyone I’ve dated that I’d call ridiculous?”

“What, seriously? I thought everyone had at least one terrible dating experience story. How unfair that I have several and you have none.” Pausing, I screw up my face and shake my head. “On second thought, let’s not talk about past dating experiences. Isn’t that supposed to be a first date faux pas anyway?”

Chuckling, he nods. “You’re right. I apologize for bringing it up.”

I give him a doubtful look. “I’m pretty sure I’m the one who brought it up, not you. So mea culpa.” I hold up my hands in surrender, but we’re both grinning like idiots.

“What should we talk about instead then?”

Of course, that’s when the waitress comes to take our order, and I have to stop myself from laughing when we both order the same thing, though we do get different drinks, so that’s something, I guess.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I have to ask,” Austin says after the waitress leaves. “I know we said no more talk of past dating experiences, but were you allowed to order the same drink? What if there were only like five drink choices on the menu and there were six people? I suppose more than two could have the same drink, but what if they didn’t? And why did he care so much?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “I have no idea. I don’t think he cared about the drink thing. There were several times we ordered the same drink and he didn’t fuss. Though sometimes he would if there were options beyond the standard Coke or Pepsi products. Like if they had house made sodas or specialty drinks, then he wanted us to get those and we couldn’t get the same one. I mean, I guess at least he was the one who always changed what he ordered? It would’ve been so much worse if he tried to force me to change. Although,” I bobble my head back and forth, “sometimes I’d ask him what he was thinking of first so I could be sure to pick something he didn’t want. Even if I wanted the same thing as him.”

“See, that’s awful.” He points at me. “You shouldn’t have to adjust your preferences like that just to keep the peace. That’s the sure sign of a doomed relationship.”

I hold up my hands again. “Don’t I know it. Trust me, he’s not even the worst one. Though, in my defense, I broke up with the ones who were obviously worse a lot sooner, if we even got to the point where it was considered a breakup. Some of them like to show how terrible they are by the second or third date. Ending those is just choosing not to see someone again. Not a breakup.”

Austin bobs his head in a nod. “Honestly, I haven’t even been on a date in quite a while.”

That surprises me. “What, really? A cute guy like you?” I give him a skeptical look. “Why not? What’s wrong with you?”

He nearly chokes on his water, laughing. “Seriously? That’s your first thought? What’s wrong with me ?”

“Well. Sure. I haven’t gone on a date in a while either. It’s been at least eight months. But that’s because I have a habit of picking terrible men, and I needed time to focus on me and figure out why. That’s what’s wrong with me.”

His eyebrows arch. “Okay, one, eight months isn’t that long.”

“What do you consider long?”

He presses his lips together like he’s not sure he should answer, then finally says, “Two years.”

I quickly snap my mouth shut, hoping he didn’t notice it dropping open in shock. “But why? ” Unfortunately, I can’t keep the astonishment out of my voice at all.

He snorts. “Wow. You sound like my nana.”

I shrug. “I mean, she’s a smart lady.” I prop my chin on my hand and gesture for him to continue with the other. “Go on. Answer the question. Enquiring minds want to know.”

That has his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter again, and he shakes his head. “I guess my problem is the opposite of yours. I’m too picky. Plus, I like to take time between relationships to make sure I’m in the right headspace to try again. I don’t want to still be hung up on someone else while trying to make it work with a new person. That doesn’t seem fair to anyone.”

I nod. “No rebounds, then?”

Another chuckle. “Nah. I don’t see how that’s fair either. I just feel like I’m using someone.”

I narrow my eyes, my dander going up a little. “I mean, if everyone’s on the same page and okay with it, I don’t think it’s really using someone. Maybe she needs a rebound too.”

He holds up his hands. “I’m not judging anyone else’s choices. Just saying how I feel about it. I don’t feel good about rebounds or relationships that are purely physical. If that works for others, great. But I like to have an emotional connection before anything else happens.”

Maybe that shouldn’t be so astonishing, but it kinda is. Especially in light of the usual types of guys I go out with. Maybe taking time away from dating has helped me pick better now that I’m willing to try again. Or maybe I just got lucky and Austin’s not really an asshole, even if he was when we were kids.

“Okay,” he says, sounding like he’s ready to introduce a serious business topic next.

I straighten in my chair, schooling my features into my most serious face, and meeting his eyes. He grins at me, laughing, and I force myself not to do the same thing.

Shaking his head, he plays with his silverware. “Sorry. That sounded like I’m going to ask for a loan or something. I’m just curious what you’ve been doing the last ten years or however long it’s been since I moved away.”

“Well,” I draw out. “I’m sure a fair amount of it overlaps with the types of things you’ve been doing. After elementary school, I went to middle school, and then high school.”

He narrows his eyes and shakes his head. “Brat,” he mutters, but he’s smiling.

I flip my hair. “Thanks for noticing. Anyway, I got an academic scholarship to Portland State University. My brother lives across the river in Vancouver, Washington, and he lets me use his washer and dryer sometimes so I can avoid the dorm laundry rooms. That’s thanks to his girlfriend Olivia, though. Or at least I credit her more than him. He’d probably let me even if she wasn’t living with him, but she’s the one who invites me over for dinner at least a couple times a month and tells me to bring my laundry.” I shrug, moving on. “I have one more semester to go, and I’ll finish my degree in psychology.”

His eyebrows jump. “Psychology, huh? What comes after graduation? Grad school?”

Sighing, I shake my head, knowing this question was inevitable. “I’m not sure yet. That seems like the most obvious step, but …” Trailing off, I bite my lip, painfully aware that spilling my guts about all my anxiety and dread about the future isn’t exactly first date appropriate conversation either.

“But?” he prompts, his face open and nonjudgmental.

I sigh again, lifting my hands and letting them drop on the table. “I’m so tired of school,” I admit. “The constant grind of deadlines and tests and papers. It’s exhausting. I’m exhausted. But I don’t know what else to do with myself either. Portland’s expensive, and entry level jobs don’t pay well.”

He snorts. “Don’t I know it.”

“Exactly. So I’m not really sure what I’m going to do once May gets here, and my parents are annoyed that I don’t have any answers to their questions, and …” I sigh and bite my lip again, shaking my head. “I just don’t know, though. I don’t have answers. Not yet, at least. And I’m not sure I will by May either.”

Reaching across the table, he slides his fingers over mine, giving them a squeeze. “You’ll figure it out,” he says, the quiet certainty in his voice making me feel better than anything anyone else has said to me on the subject so far. “Even if you just do something in the meantime while you figure it out, you’ll eventually figure it out. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

My eyebrows jump. “You promise, huh?”

He gives me a cheeky grin. “Yup. I promise.”

“And what happens if I don’t figure it out? And I’m not okay? You gonna fix things for me?”

His grin grows wider. “Sure. Come find me in May if you don’t have it figured out yet. I’ll fix everything.”