Lincoln arrived at Sonny's Diner well before ten thirty, when the guys typically met for a late breakfast. No, they didn't call it brunch.
He claimed the corner booth and drummed his fingers on the tabletop until everyone got there. The guys filled the booth, chattering like usual.
Lincoln waited until Corinne poured everyone's coffee and took their food orders. On the one hand, he wasn't sure how much to tell them. On the other, he needed some advice. He half-hoped someone else had some news or something interesting to talk about, but he was quickly relieved of that notion.
Oren propped his elbows on the table. "How are the dating lessons going?"
Noah, Alex, and Nate looked at him expectantly.
His brain tried to find a good starting point. His mouth just went ahead and launched the words, "I kissed her."
There was a collective gasp followed by all four men saying some version of, "What?"
"Wait, wait, wait." Alex waved his hands to quiet the group. "Start from the beginning."
He gave them a brief rundown of the day. "We put the trees in her dad's truck, and I don't know, it was cold and her cheeks and her nose were pink and she was teasing me about the sap on my hands so I grabbed her hands to get them sticky, too, and we were laughing and she had this ridiculous poofball on her hat and I didn't even think about it. I swear there was no conscious thought involved. I just leaned down and gave her a kiss, and then I got the heck out of Dodge."
"What did she say?"
Lincoln dumped another creamer into his coffee and stirred it. "I didn't give her a chance to say anything. I literally dove into my car and drove away like I robbed a bank."
Noah snickered. Oren elbowed him.
Corinne brought their breakfasts and handed out the plates.
Lincoln looked at his pancakes, but there were so many knots in his stomach he wasn't sure if he'd be able to eat.
Nate poured a massive puddle of syrup onto his French toast. "I assume you haven't talked to her yet."
"No."
Alex offered, "I wouldn't. I'd keep my mouth shut and pretend it never happened."
Oren answered around a mouth full of scrambled eggs. "Not gonna work. I've known Gretchen forever. There's a zero percent chance she lets this go without saying anything."
Noah shrugged. "Then let her bring it up."
Nate shook his head. "No, take the direct approach. Then you'll have the upper hand in the conversation and can steer it the way you want it to go."
Oren barked a laugh. "Have you met Gretchen? I agree, I think you should bring it up, but don't delude yourself into thinking there's any kind of tactical advantage to be had."
Lincoln drizzled the last few drops of syrup onto his pancake. "This is weird. It's not some kind of military operation. I'll just… I'll just tell her I was caught up in the moment and it just happened and that it didn't mean anything and it won't happen again."
Alex quietly asked, "Is any of that true?"
"Of course it's true." He shoved a wedge of pancake into his mouth to buy some time. It took forever to chew, thanks to it being dry since Nate hoarded the syrup.
Too late to help, Corinne brought a fresh container of syrup and refilled their coffee cups.
"You're not catching feelings for Gretchen, are you?" Oren asked.
"Boh gorn noh," Lincoln insisted. He swallowed the wad of dry pancake and repeated, "Of course not."
From there, the conversation flew around the table with advice to call her, to not call her, to bring it up first, to not bring it up, to deal with it head on, to deflect and avoid it at all costs, and the final bit of advice that was thrown into the ring by Noah.
"Maybe you should just call this whole thing off."
The rest of the guys considered the idea.
Noah offered, "You know what this is? That thing where patients fall for their doctor or therapist."
"Transference," Oren said.
"Yeah. Transference. That's the only reason you're starting to think there's something more than there is."
Lincoln threw his hands up. "What? I never said I was getting feelings."
His friends all scoffed.
"You need to go on a real date. Not with Gretchen."
Lincoln concentrated on his pancake and the tightness in his chest. Of all the bad advice they'd ever given him–and there was a lot–that had to be the worst.
Alex said, "Avery's friend Meredith is visiting from Atlanta. You should take her out."
Okay, maybe that was the worst advice ever.
He snatched the syrup container before Noah could use it all. He mumbled, "Yeah, I don't think that's something I would do."
Oren bit into a strip of bacon and said, "That might be a good idea. Give you a chance to practice the stuff Gretchen's been teaching you."
Lincoln couldn't believe his ears. "You all think I should go out with someone else? That wouldn't be, I don't know, wrong?"
"Why? You and Gretchen are just friends. You probably kissed her because you're spending too much time together and you're getting too comfortable."
"Yeah. Yup. Uh-huh, that transference thing," was the chorus from around the table.
Alex bobbed his head and pulled out his phone. "Then it's a done deal. I'll see when she's available."
Lincoln went cold, then hot. This scheme was not sitting well with him. But the guys were all talking about it and making plans without his input.
"Guys, no…" His tongue felt too big for his mouth.
The conversation had taken on a life of its own.
"Guys? I don't think—"
"Done. You can pick her up at our place at six."
Lincoln choked out a noise that wasn't a word.
"Tonight."
He felt his face heat. He wanted to object, to tell Alex to call it off, to put a stop to this runaway freight train, but his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. His throat and chest were tight and it was all he could do to pull in breath.
The plans swirled around him. In the end, it was decided that Lincoln would pick Meredith up at six and take her to dinner. From there, they could go to a movie, but nobody knew what might be playing.
The subject changed, once, twice, three times before Lincoln was able to get himself under control. He choked out, "Should I tell Gretchen?"
All eyes were on him. There was a quiet beat, then a round of unanimous, incredulous, "Of course not. Why would you do that? It's not like you're really dating."
He felt stupid for asking.
As he got in his car to leave, he also felt stupid for letting himself get roped into a date. His friends were amazing, supportive, loyal men who always had his back. But sometimes, like now, their big, confident personalities overwhelmed him and he found himself in a situation he didn't want to be in.
Correction, he let himself be led into a situation he didn't want to be in. Lincoln gripped the steering wheel. He had to own his part in letting his friends steamroll him.
His mind swirled in double time. Not only did he need to figure out exactly why he'd kissed Gretchen, now he needed to figure out what he was going to do about Meredith. Was there a way to gracefully cancel without being a jerk?
Even if he went with the truth–his friends set him up and he didn't want to go, he still looked like a jerk for letting it happen.
And maybe he was. He needed to practice more than dating. He needed to practice using his words so he didn't end up in these situations. For a moment, he considered calling Gretchen to get her advice, but it didn't feel right. They weren't exclusive, because they weren't actually dating. So it shouldn't be a big deal.
He parked in front of his house and sat in the car contemplating his situation. But not for long, because the cold from outside quickly overtook the lingering heat.
All afternoon, he debated what he should do, until it was time to leave. And since he hadn't canceled, he had to go, because standing her up would be even worse than going through with it.