Page 11 of Prime Time Romance
I glance over at Josh, who is still staring at me, awaiting my call to watch the next episode.
“No,” I tell him as I kick back the last of my wine. “I think I’m going to head to bed.”
The events of the day have drained me. The mental exhaustion has morphed into a full-blown body ache.
Josh stands and holds out his hand to help me up. I feel the urge to say something. A thank-you for the rescue and the talk. But as I open my mouth, I’m interrupted by a sharp knock on the front door.
Josh and I both freeze.
“Are you expecting someone?” I glance at my phone. It’s 12:01 a.m. A little late for visitors, though maybe not unusual for Josh.
He shakes his head. “Not that I’m aware of, but maybe you should let me get it.”
He moves to the door, but before I can object, he opens it a crack. Then, satisfied with whoever is on the other side, he flings it fully open.
Standing on my front step is a guy. He looks to be in his twenties, with bleached-blond hair that sticks up in every direction. He’s wearing a pale-yellow T-shirt for a band whose name is covered by a large white paper box in his hands.
“Which one of you is Brynn Smothers?” he asks.
Josh turns to me and grins. “Looks like you were expecting someone.”
The guy ignores Josh and holds out his box. “Uber Eats for—oh, hey—” He points to something behind me. “Carson’s Cove. I love that show. I’m kind of embarrassed to say it, but I’ve watched the entire series at least twice.”
This revelation instantly relaxes me. This man is one of my people.
“Don’t feel bad,” I tell him. “My number is more like six, and I’ve probably watched some episodes even more than that.”
The stranger looks pleased. “Really? Which ones?”
I probably should be mildly mortified about my compulsive television viewing habits right now, but I want to answer his question. “Definitely the hurricane episode. I love how it’s Spencer and Sloan alone in his house all night with nothing but looming danger and candlelight for practically the whole episode. I spent the majority of my teen years thinking that was the epitome of romance.”
The stranger nods. “I like that episode too. But it drove me crazy that they never kissed.”
My stomach flutters as I think about it.
“But you know it’s not going to happen right at the beginning of the episode,” I counter. “Right when the power goes out, Sloan makes some offhand comment about how they should probably turn off all the lights so they don’t come blaring on in the middle of the night if the power comes back. But if you watch closely, they don’t ever actually do it. It’s the perfect setup to ruin an almost-kiss.”
A slow smile spreads across the Uber driver’s lips.
There’s something about it that strikes me as familiar, as if we’ve met before, but I can’t quite place it.
He holds out the white box. “Happy birthday, Brynn.”
I take it from his hands, examining the dark-blue logo stamped on top, which reads Bake a Wish.
I flip open the lid and find a small white birthday cake covered with rainbow sprinkles. A single white candle is nested in its center.
“Oh, shit.” Josh takes a step toward me. “Brynn. I didn’t know it was your birthday.” He peers into the box, his woodsy smell mingling with the delicate vanilla of the cake. “So, was that why you were out tonight? A birthday celebration?”
“Not exactly.” I stare at the single white candle, once again reminded of the disappointments of the night, which leads to a new question: If my friends didn’t remember my birthday, who did?
“Hey, who ordered this—” Before the sentence is out, it’s interrupted by the sound of my front door closing.
I turn to Josh. “Where did he go?”
Josh looks from the cake to the closed door and shrugs. He takes the box from my hands. “Can I cut you a slice?”
Although the sweet vanilla scent still lingers in my nose, it’s a little late for cake…. I shake my head. “I really shouldn’t. We can just save it for tomorrow.”
