F*ck Fate! (Book 3)

Chapter Eight: Date Night

Andy

I sat in my chair at one of the metal tables inside the small coffee shop I was supposed to be meeting Lance. I was early - just about an hour early - but I had ordered myself a hot tea and brought my notebook to continue working on that dammed poem I still needed to finish.

I think I had it mostly completely, thankfully. I wanted to ignore where the inspiration came from, but titling the poem with the words "green eyes" kind of gave it away. It wasn't the traditional love poem. No, this one was about the slowly falling - the confusion and uncertainty of something new and unknown. It was about the possibility of finding love, all from a first glance or first impression. I actually liked how this was turning out.

"Excuse me?"

I looked up from my notebook. There, standing next to me, was the guy from the picture Kat had showed me this afternoon. Lance. And I had to say, he was more handsome up close.

"Are you Andy?"

I smiled. "You must be Lance."

He sat across from me. "Yeah, I am. Uh, I hope you weren't waiting long." He pointed to my mug on the table, which was just about empty by now. "Either that or you go through hot drinks like water."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I did get here early, but I came to do some work. I had a feeling I might lose track of time if I started working and miss our date tonight. I definitely didn't want to do that."

"Can I get you another drink?" Lance asked, standing back up. "What do you want?"

I shook my head. "I was just about to ask if I could get you anything. You don't need to do that."

"I insist."

I smiled at him gratefully before telling him what kind of tea I wanted. Already I could tell he was a gentleman. Maybe Kat was right about him after all.

While Lance went to get on line, I have to admit I watched him. He was built, that's for sure. I had no doubt he played baseball, like Kat had mentioned. I'm almost positive he had an impressive size bat hanging out in those skinny jeans, which barely left anything to my imagination.

It wasn't long before he returned with my tea and a coffee for himself. "So," he started. "What are you working on? Uh, Kat mentioned that you like to write stories, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm majoring in English writing. This is actually a homework assignment. Poetry."

"Awesome. Mind if I take a look?"

I shrugged, sliding the notebook over. "It's a love poem. I've sort of been lacking in that department recently, so it's probably not the greatest."

Lance read over the poem, quietly reading the words to himself. Eventually, he lifted his head. "This is really good. I'm impressed. Gotta say though - the green eye thing? Sorry to disappoint."

I laughed. "I find brown eyes attractive too. Don't worry."

Lance and I soon fell into easy conversation. I actually found myself having fun with him. I haven't done that with someone aside from Kat in way too long. It was nice.

Of course, the question I had been expecting all night came up. "So I'm sure you get this all the time, but can I ask about the wheelchair?"

I nodded slowly. That's always the one thing people want to know more than anything else. But I didn't mind telling, if they were willing to hear it. I felt like Lance was one of those people who would care.

"When I was thirteen, I had a stroke. It caused some spinal cord damage that left me paralyzed from the waist down."

"Holy shit," he breathed out. "That sucks."

"There was a pretty big predisposition in my family history I didn't know about until afterwards. Plus I hadn't been the healthiest eater, but what kid is? I try to take care of myself now. Don't need to have another stroke."

Lance nodded, and I realized I probably brought the conversation to a halt. "Sorry. I didn't mean to ruin that mood we had going."

He shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. I'm the one who asked."

"Meg, I told you, I don't need anything. I'm fine."

I turned around at the sound of that voice, having instantly recognized it. I was right - there, waiting on line with a petite blonde girl, was none other than Shawn, the cashier at the fast food restaurant. What a coincidence that he'd show up here. It seems like we were both out on dates tonight, judging by his hand on her waist.

He turned away from the girl - Meg - and made eye contact with me, probably because I had been staring a little too long. Shawn said something I couldn't catch to his girlfriend before he walked across the shop to my table.

"For once, you found me," I said when he approached. "Funny seeing you here."

I wouldn't have been surprised if we had crossed paths hundreds of times before. Weird how we hadn't met until yesterday, and now we keep seeing each other (although, admittedly, today's lunch was completely on purpose).

"Yeah, I was going to say the same thing," Shawn said, glancing over at Lance curiously.

I spoke up before either of them could say anything. "This is Lance," I told Shawn. "And Lance, this is Shawn."

Lance smiled up at him, offering his hand for Shawn to shake. Shawn shook it. "Good to meet you, man. How do you know Andy?"

"Oh, we don't really," Shawn said, far too quickly. "We only recently met."

I nodded, but didn't get a chance to say anything before his girlfriend came over with a coffee in her hands. "Hey baby," she said, leaning against Shawn's arm. "You know these guys?"

"I actually met Andy at work," he told her, gesturing to me. "And he's here with his... friend?"

"Date," Lance corrected automatically. I didn't mind. I've never been one to hide my sexuality before.

"Ah," Shawn said. "We'll let you get back to it, then. Sorry to interrupt."

The two of them left the shop, hand in hand. The sight gave me an uneasy feeling - probably because of the evidence he had been telling the truth yesterday about having a girlfriend. Yet, if I overheard him and his friend correctly today, he might just play for both teams.

"I can see it now," Lance said, bringing my attention back to the guy I was on a date with.

"See what?"

He gave me a small smile. "Your poem. That shade of green? It's pretty obvious."

I shook my head, laying my hand over his on top of the table. "It's just a homework assignment. It doesn't mean anything."