And if I’m being totally honest with myself, it isn’t just the hug.
It’s the dance, too. The way we laughed, spun a little, bumped into shelves like the world had shrunk down to just the two of us and a song we didn’t plan to care about. The way my hands found hers and stayed there longer than necessary. The way the music stopped and neither of us moved right away.
I don’t know if she felt what I did in that moment. I don’t know if she noticed how hard it was to step back once the song ended. But I do know I’ve been carrying the memory of it with me all day. The warmth. The ease. Thealmostof it.
I’m still thinking about that when my phone buzzes.
Juliette:
Thank you again for understanding today.
I smile as I walk.
Of course. You explained. I listened. Growth? (pun intended)
A second passes.
Juliette:
I wanted to see if you’d be free one day over the weekend so we could talk about the workshop idea?
Does talking involve eating of some kind?
Juliette:
I don’t know why that sentence makes me nervous.
I think we could break bread and discuss said workshop. Do you like Thai food?
Juliette:
I can like it as long as it gives us a chance to put the plan into motion for a workshop…
There’s a pause. I can practically feel her smiling. I walk a few more steps, then type again before I can overthink it.
Okay. Thai it is for a planning session. I’ll check my schedule and let you know when I’m free.
Juliette:
Thank you. Again.
We’re on a roll. It’s a text roll, but still. There’s rhythm to it. Ease. The kind that makes you forget you’re staring at your phone on a sidewalk instead of having an actual conversation.
And hey…don’t forget. I can get you and Theo tickets if you want.
The typing bubble doesn’t appear.
I wait a second longer than I should. Then another.
No reply.
Which is fine. Probably. She’s busy being a responsible adult with a kid and a million moving parts. Still, I slide my phoneback into my pocket with a quiet exhale, the space where her response should be lingering just a little too loudly.
And for the first time all day, I wonder if I stepped one inch too far.
By the time I reach my car, still nothing. Then—my pocket vibrates.
Juliette:
