AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But when she speaks again, there’s a tinge of hope in her tone. “Here’s what I propose.”
My heart thunders in my chest. Propose is a promising word. No one proposes a breakup, that’s for damn sure.
“Noah will be back soon. Until then, we try.”
“We try…?”
“This.” She points between us. “Dating.”
“A relationship,” I clarify, pushing my luck. I can’t help myself.
She cracks another tiny smile and nods her head in agreement as a knock sounds at the door. “Natalie, are you in there?”
It’s Lindsey.
After tossing me an apologetic glance, Natalie steps away and reaches for the door.
“Hey,” she says, tugging it open enough so that Lindsey can see us standing inside.
Lindsey smiles in relief when she sees her friend is okay, then her gaze sweeps to me and her eyes narrow. “Why are you making my friend cry, Easton?”
I snort and reach up to rub the back of my neck, happy to have a bit of comic relief after the last few minutes.
“He’s not. I’ve just had a long day and Kieran wasn’t helping.”
Lindsey cringes. “Yeah, sorry about that. You don’t have to worry though—he got a call from his ex and ditched us.”
“Seriously? That sucks. I know you were kind of interested in him.”
Lindsey shrugs. “Yeah. He was cute, but that’s sort of the way my dating life goes, y’know? Anyway, are you guys all good? Or do I need to stuff Connor’s head in the toilet over there?”
Natalie chuckles then glances over at me with raised brows, and I nod. She rocks back on her heels. “We’re good.” She walks toward Lindsey and loops her arm through her friend’s. “Now c’mon, Connor can walk us home, and on the way, I’ll buy you a slice of pizza from that place around the corner you love so much.”
“The one that makes the slices the size of your head?”
“Yes.”
Lindsey pumps her hand in the air. “Yes. God, that’s exactly what I want right now. That pizza is ten times more delicious than any guy in this place. No offense, Connor.”
I smile. “None taken.”
They cut through the pub and head out to the sidewalk while I hang back to close out our tab. At the table, Daniel and Miguel are still sitting, watching the game. Miguel minds his own business and sips his beer, but Daniel doesn’t look too pleased to see me.
“She okay?” he asks, glancing outside through the window. He must have seen Natalie and Lindsey leave.
“Yeah, she just wants to head home.” I grab some cash out of my wallet and set it on the table.
Daniel speaks up. “You know you could have just told me you were interested in her. It didn’t have to come to this.”
I nod. He’s right. On paper, it does sound that easy. Just confess your love for her, man. What’s the issue? But for years, I’ve lived in silence about my feelings. For years I’ve had to watch Natalie from afar, knowing she was untouchable. I’m still getting used to the idea of loving her out loud.
“Does Noah know?” he asks.
My first instinct is to tell him to mind his own business, but I catch myself before I put my foot in my mouth. Daniel’s not the enemy. We just happen to want the same woman.
“Noah’s my best friend,” I reply like that’s an answer then tip my head at them and turn to leave.
Of course Noah doesn’t know. It’s complicated. Maybe I would have told him if he were in town. Maybe I would have told him if I were confident this thing with Natalie wasn’t going to blow up in my face. Hell, maybe I don’t even need to tell him. Maybe he’s already guessed how I feel. Wouldn’t that be nice?
Natalie and Lindsey are outside buying a pretzel from a street vendor.
“No pizza?”
Lindsey sends me a scathing look. “Of course we’re still getting pizza. This is an appetizer.”
Then she glances over at Natalie like, Can you believe this guy?
Natalie laughs and nods for me to join them. We turn right at the corner and walk down the red cobblestone sidewalk along Beacon Street. The State House is lit up, a dominant piece of architecture demanding we take notice of its golden dome.
Natalie breaks off a chunk of pretzel and offers it to me.
I take it and our hands brush. It’s like I’m right back in middle school hanging out with the girl I like, hoping we accidentally touch. I want to take her hand, but I don’t. I want to ask her to verify that the conversation we just had in the bathroom was real, but I don’t. Instead, I listen to her and Lindsey’s debate about how much salt is too much salt where pretzels are concerned.
“It’s a careful balance,” Lindsey notes with the uppity tone of a New York Times food critic.
