His smile turns shy. "I blend in pretty well."
"Do you shoot pool?" I ask, curious.
"Not really."
“I play a bit,” I tell him. "My best friend is better than me, though. Her ex owns the place, and she's married to a pro."
He smiles. "That's cool."
A warm breeze rustles the trees overhead, carrying the scent of someone's barbecue. The air feels charged, electric—like anything could happen. I realize I'm actually enjoying myself, which seems absurd considering we just survived a robbery.
My phone is gone. Daniel can't text me, can't ask where I am, can't track my location. The relief surprises me.
"You okay?" Julian asks, catching my expression.
"Yeah, actually. I know this sounds weird, but I kind of like not having my phone right now."
He laughs. "I get that. Sometimes it's nice to just exist without notifications."
I think about my Coke and candy, abandoned on the convenience store floor. Normally I'd be dying for that sugar rush by now, but the adrenaline from tonight has my system buzzing. I don't need artificial highs.
"Here we are," Gord announces as we reach a small brick house with a tidy front garden.
We say our goodbyes, and Gord waves from his doorstep, and then it's just the two of us standing on the sidewalk. The night wraps around us, intimate and warm.
My stomach flips. The air between us crackles with something I shouldn't be feeling. Something that makes my skin flush and my breath catch.
I have a boyfriend. Daniel would lose his mind if he knew I was alone with another man right now. The thought sends a spike of guilt through my chest.
"So you live in Cumberland, too?" Julian asks as we start walking.
"Yeah, over on Maple Street. The old apartment building with the red awning."
"I know the one. I'm just a few from here."
We fall into step together, our bodies almost touching. I'm hyper-aware of every inch of space between us.
"Thank you again," I blurt out. "For being so calm back there. You really helped that little girl. Helped all of us, honestly."
He shrugs. "I just did what anyone would do."
"No, you didn't. That guy was complaining about his phone while Emmy was sobbing. You actually paid attention to what people needed."
His smile is soft, almost bashful. "Well, thanks."
We reach a brownstone building with black shutters and flower boxes in the windows. It's charming in that effortless way some places just are.
"This is me," he says. "Let me just grab my keys."
He disappears inside without inviting me in, and I'm thankful for that. I stand on the sidewalk, wrapping my arms around myself despite the warmth. A small part of me wishes he'd asked me up—for some reason, I'm curious about what his space looks like.
He emerges moments later, jangling keys in his hand, and leads me to a sleek black Kia Telluride parked on the street.
"Nice ride," I say, climbing into the passenger seat.
"Thanks. Got it last year. It’s usually parked in the underground garage, but I occasionally leave it on the street.”
“Wow, you have underground parking?”
