Free Depths by Steph Campbell, Liz Reinhardt Page B

up and head to the back deck.
    “Who is it?” Deo calls.
    “Maren! From work.” I start to close the sliding door behind me.
    “Hook her, man.” I look back at him as I accept her call. “The way you looked when you saw it was her on the line? I’ve only ever seen you look that way before a major swell. That’s love, dude. That’s beach-bum, perfect-for-Cohen love.”
    Maren says ‘hello’ for the second time, and I do my best to slam the sliding door on Deo and his endless stupidity.
    “Hey, Maren. I’m sorry.  I’m at my idiot friend’s house. You doing okay?”
    “I am. And I did have to tell you that the Reyes account needs to be looked over tomorrow morning. Unless they want three sectionals, there’s an input error on their order, and it’s going to production tomorrow morning, so we still have a window to catch it.”
    “You’re a damn angel, Maren, you know that? Seriously. I’m calling Maurice and having him give you a raise. You’re a lifesaver.” I lean against the deck railing and look into the clear blue sky, relieved that Maren caught the slip-up before the Mrs. Reyes came in and gave me an ass-chewing I’d never forget.
    She clears her throat. “Also. Um. This is a little weird. Uh. I know things didn’t go the way you…the way you planned. On your last date. And this may be too weird and too soon, so please feel free to say no—”
    And it hits me.
    Maren is going to ask me out.
    Maren.
    Sweet, perfect Maren who fixes problems and has this voice that can flip from bedroom-sexy to furniture-ordering-fierce like a switch.
    No. No, no, no, no. I want one dream girl, unruined by a clusterfuck of a bad date. Just one. I need her stability in my crazy, drowning world.
    She clears her throat a second time. “My boyfriend…well, he’s kind of my boyfriend. It’s on and off. It doesn’t matter. God, I’m rambling! Okay, my boyfriend got four tickets to the Angel’s game, and our friend’s ditched last minute. They’re really good seats, and Jason knows this girl from work who wants to go, but she’s single and, um—”
    Maren has a boyfriend? An off and on boyfriend? What kind of idiot wouldn’t commit to a girl like Maren? And what kind of idiot takes his girl to an Angels’ game, rather than a Dodgers’?
    Granted, what I know about her is based on months of work phone calls, but I feel like I know her well enough to be sure she’s the kind of girl who’s a keeper.
    Not for me. Obviously. I just want to know that good people, like Maren, are dating other good people. It gives me hope.
    Not that I’m feeling all that hopeful right now.
    I rake a hand through my hair. I’m not ready for this again. I’m not ready to put myself out there and get my heart trampled on again. I’m not ready for more disappointment.
    I glance up and see Whit and Deo through the reflections on the sliding door. I can see his face, watching her while she tells him a story. I see the way his eyes never leave her, the way she gets him to smile no matter what’s going on. He kisses her, and I stop watching, ‘cause I’m not a perv like that.
    But I want what they have. I want it bad. And I’ll never get it drinking my sadness away in their living room.
    Isn’t this exactly what Whit just told me I needed? Isn’t this kind of like fate slapping me upside the head?
    I take a deep breath and just go for it.
    “Sure. I’d love to go.”
    I hope to God this isn’t another huge mistake.
     
     
    6 COHEN
    The stadium is crazy crowded, and the fans are already getting rowdy as the sun dims behind billows of dark clouds. It looks like rain.
    I wonder if this date will suck for reasons that have nothing to do with me and everything to do with the weather. And I wonder if I can stop thinking about the weather long enough to beat down my nervousness at finally meeting Maren.
    And Ally, of course. I’m obviously nervous to meet the girl I’m going on a date with.
    I admit, I tried looking Maren up on