Page 55 of The Attack Zone

I swipe up to the cash-sharing app and find a two hundred dollar payment from Mitch.

Stacey: What on earth is that for?

Mitch: Drinks are on me tonight.

I can feel myself smiling, but I’ve already had a glass of wine so I can’t stop myself. I probably look like an idiot staring at my phone like some lovestruck teenager right now.

Mitch: I also won enough to take you out to dinner after the wedding’s over, love.

My mind scratches like a broken record. Mitch ... wants to take me out to dinner? Why would he want to do that? And why do I feel ... excited? No, no. That can’t be right. We’re just friends on our best days. What is going on?

Mitch: Only if you want to, of course. I just figured we should celebrate getting through planning the wedding once it’s over.

Well, that does sound nice. But planning the wedding hasn’t felt like something to get through. At least not to me. It’s been weirdly fun, actually. Still, we should celebrate a job well done.

Stacey: That sounds nice. Let’s do it.

Mitch: Great!

I can’t let him think this is a date, though. But what else is it? We’re already fucking, and now we’re going out to dinner.

I’m about to ask if he thinks it’s a date when I realize something. We were working on the seating charts the other day and we both just glazed over the wedding party’s table. The table where all of us, and our potential dates, will be sitting. What if Mitch is bringing someone? What if he’s been sleeping with other people? We never had that conversation, so I can’t be mad at him ... right? So why do I feel like I’m being gutted like a fish right now? I grab my wine and chug the remaining three-quarters of a glass down. I’m not sure how I’ll feel about his answer either way, but something in me needs to know.

Stacey: Also, speaking of the wedding ...

Mitch: What about it?

Stacey: Are you bringing a date?

The dots appear so I wait for another text to come through, my breath hitched in my chest.

Mitch: I didn’t think I needed one.

I type out a reply and start at my phone, finger hovering over the send button. Am I really doing this?

Stacey: Good.

Mitch: Good?

Stacey: Well, you’re already walking me down the aisle. We can just keep that going for the night.

Stacey: If you want.

Dammit. What is it about Mitch Greggs that makes me so goddamn awkward? If this were any other guy, I wouldn’t care. But the problem is, this is Mitch, and I’m not even sure what I want. All I know is that if he rolls up to this wedding with some gorgeous woman who isn’t me on his arm, I’m going to lose my ever-loving shit.

Mitch: Are you asking me to be your wedding date?

I type out three different snarky responses but none of them feel right.

Mitch: Love?

Shit.

Stacey: You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?

Mitch: You know how much I like it when you ask for what you want, love ...

Stacey: Yes, Mitch. I’m asking you to be my wedding date.