This Beautiful Chaos, Chapter 3

Forty & Fucked

I wasn’t even sure why I said yes.

Maybe it was the way he kept texting me, little jokes and questions that made me laugh harder than I had in months. Or the fact that, no matter how many times I brushed him off, he always came back with something so genuine, so him, that it made me pause.

“Just one date,” he’d finally said, and I could practically hear the grin in his text. “If it sucks, you can ghost me. I’ll only cry a little.”

And somehow, here I was. Sitting on a blanket in the park, overlooking the Tennessee Valley, on a perfect winter afternoon, with Evan across from me, pulling a pizza box out of a canvas bag like he’d just solved world hunger.

“Ta-da!” he said, holding it up like it was a rare treasure. “The finest deep dish. You’re welcome.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You’re confident I like deep dish.”

“Who doesn’t like deep dish?”

“Monsters. But I’m more of a thin-crust girl.”

He clutched his chest like I’d just mortally wounded him. “You can’t be serious.”

I smirked, taking the box from him. “Oh, sweetie. I’m always serious about pizza. And ice cream.”

And that’s how it started. Pizza, wine, and a half-hour argument about whether or not pineapple belonged on pizza (he was pro; I was firmly against; not really, I just like arguing with him). By the time we broke into the wine, my cheeks already hurt from laughing.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I said, taking a sip straight from the bottle. “Your taste in pizza is trash.”

“Not as trash as your taste in men,” he shot back, but his voice softened just enough to turn the teasing into something sweeter.

I froze for a second, my walls threatening to shoot back up. He noticed, his smile flickering for just a moment before he reached into the bag again.

“Lucky for you,” he said, pulling out a pack of rolling papers, “I also came prepared.”

I stared at him, incredulous. “You brought weed to a first date?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You brought weed. I just brought the class.”

I laughed so hard I almost fell backward, and by the time the joint made its way between us, I was convinced this man was somehow reading my mind.

We laid back on the blanket, high as hell, surrounded by the sound of kids playing in the distance and the occasional dog chasing a frisbee.

The sun dipped lower in the sky, and Evan leaned back on his elbows, watching me with a lazy grin.

“So,” he said, his voice warm and a little hazy. “Is this the part where I ask if you’re having a good time, or should I just assume the answer’s yes?”

I looked at him, the dimples out in full force, and thought about how insane this all felt. How fast, how unexpected, how impossible.

And still, I smiled. “Yeah,” I said, nudging him with my foot. “You’re doing okay, Ev. But don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, it’s too late for that.” He sat up, leaning just a little closer, his eyes sparkling in the fading sunlight. “I’m pretty sure this is the best date of your life.”

“Best date of my life?” I scoffed. “You brought deep dish. That automatically disqualifies you.”

“You wound me,” he said, clutching his chest, falling back on the blanket like I’d stabbed him. Then he narrowed his eyes, looking up at me with one eye, playful but curious. “So, what’s the competition? Let me guess—fancy steakhouse date? Champagne on a rooftop?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I teased, leaning back and taking another lazy sip of wine.

For a moment, neither of us said anything. The air between us felt warm and easy, like we’d known each other forever.

And then, because I couldn’t help myself, I let it slip.

“You know,” I said, glancing over at him, “you’ve got the honor of taking me out on a very special day.”

He perked up instantly, his grin widening. “Oh yeah? What’s the occasion? Don’t tell me! It’s National Weed Appreciation Day or something.”

“Close,” I said, biting back a smirk. “It’s my birthday.”

His eyes widened, and he sat up so fast he nearly knocked over the pizza box. “Wait, what? Are you serious? Why didn’t you tell me?!”

I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant even as his reaction made my heart do a ridiculous little flip. “Because it’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeated, looking at me like I’d just told him I didn’t believe in kittens. “Birthdays are the biggest deal!”

“Well, I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“Weird? Megan, we’re sitting in a park, eating pizza and getting high on our first date. Weird is the theme.” He grinned, shaking his head. “Seriously, you should’ve told me.”

“Would it have changed anything?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hell yeah, it would’ve changed things. I would’ve brought candles or… I don’t know, sparklers or something!”

I laughed, feeling my cheeks heat. “It’s fine. This is perfect.”

Then, because I was feeling just bold enough, or maybe the weed was kicking in, I added, “And just so you know, I turned forty today.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He blinked at me, his smile faltering for half a second before it came back in full force.

“You’re messing with me,” he said, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

“Why would I lie about that?”

“Because there’s no way in hell you’re forty. You don’t look a day over…” He trailed off, his grin turning sly. “Thirty-nine and three-quarters.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re a liar.”

“I’m really not.”

He leaned closer, studying me like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Okay, fine. Say you are forty. What’s your secret? Witchcraft? Time travel? A pact with the devil?”

“All of the above,” I said, smirking. “But don’t tell anyone. I don’t need the church after me.”

He laughed, and I realized I liked the sound of it way too much.

“Well, happy birthday, Megan,” he said softly, his voice low and sincere. “I can’t believe I get to be the guy who made you laugh today.”

And just like that, I knew I was screwed.