Lucky Me Lucky You | Clyde Logan x Reader

Chapter 2

Note: I don't have a Facebook. I haven't had one in almost a decade. So, I have no idea how it works anymore. Just roll with me.

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Once you'd gotten home Thursday night, you'd googled the lyrics from the song Clyde had requested. Turned out it was "So Into You" by Atlanta Rhythm Section. It felt like a message. You knew it wasn't. But it felt like one.

You were being delusional. It was wishful thinking.

You listened to the damn song too many times, anyway. You caught yourself staring into space while it played, thinking of Clyde. You wondered if he ever thought of you. Did he ever drive into work hoping to see you?

If you were in a rom-com, this would be the part where you'd lip-sync the song to an indifferent-but-adorable pet.

You talked yourself out of going to Duck Tape on Saturday night. You'd told him you came on Thursdays. If you changed the routine, you'd look desperate. And you might be desperate, but you didn't want him to know that. Also, he might not even be there for Saturday nights.

The rest of the week went by like molasses in January: slow as all fuck.

When plans had solidified for another Thursday at Duck Tape, you congratulated yourself for not adding too much to the discussion. You weren't designated driver this time. All you had to do was be ready by eight.

At 7:55, you were on your porch waiting for Kayla to pick you up. Your stomach was a heavy gordian knot. You knew that wasn't the right metaphor, but it seemed to fit all the same. You knew what you had to do. You had to be brave. You were going to face that big handsome problem and cut it in half.

No, wait. You were going to cut the knot in half. Not Clyde. The knot wasn't your stomach, though. You were not going to commit seppuku. No. You were going to face that dragon—

Hold up. Clyde Logan was not a dragon.

Fuck. No more mixing metaphors.

You were going to be fearless. Yes. You were going to flirt with Clyde Logan. He was going to flirt back. It was going to be awesome.

Kayla pulling up in her girlfriend's extended-cab Silverado shook you from your thoughts. You rushed across your minuscule front yard and got into the empty front seat. You were her first stop. The truck was peaceful—for now. The radio was on and tuned to a country station.

"You look cute," Kayla said as she used your driveway to turn around.

You thanked her with a smile. You'd been getting ready since you'd finished dinner at six. You had your hair up. You'd redone your makeup. You changed into a body-hugging, boat-necked floral knit shirt and a black stretchy midi pencil skirt. You decided to opt for your white Converses instead of anything high-heeled. You had on a petite cross-body bag with a chain-strap, too. It was just big enough for your phone, a little coin purse, keys, a tampon, and your lip gloss. It was all casual, but not too casual.

By the time Kayla pulled up to Duck Tape, the truck's cab was full of laughter and conversation. You had Tanya on your lap and someone's knee wedged into your kidney. You hardly cared, though. You'd put up with a lot more to talk to Clyde again.

As usual, Duck Tape wasn't super busy on Thursday evening. You and the group streamed in and headed for the billiard section. The middle table was free, and your group claimed it, settling their things in one of the booths at the back of the section.

You glanced at the bar to see Clyde there. He was wearing much the same thing he'd worn last Thursday. But instead of waiting for you, he was talking to a striking woman. Actually, she was beautiful. She had long, honey-brown hair and lovely, sparkling eyes. She tall and lean. She was smiling at Clyde and practically glowing. He was giving her a soft look you knew meant one thing: