“You like?” He wiggled his toes, catching where my attention had been. “The guys at the firehouse brought in a couple of the women from the pedicure place last week, and we all got our toes done.”
“I would have paid to see that.”
He chuckled.
“They look great,” I said. “Now you won’t give hobbits a run for their money.”
He laughed again and then took a deep breath in and out, looking at me funnily.
I wasn’t sure what that look meant, so I turned my focus to check out his place. It smelled surprisingly comfy, like he’d been burning a fall candle titled “Walks Through an Autumn Forest,” but when I looked around, I saw only a plug-in candle warmer. Duh. He wasn’t likely to be burning things for fun.
His place was tidy and simple. It definitely had the feel of being occupied only part of the time and lacked personality. There were crucial staples but hardly any whimsy or pizazz. His locker at the firehouse at least had photos of his nephews and family. There was a small stack of his mystery books, but even that was sparse. I understood why. He once confessed he never kept any book after finishing, always donated them or brought them to the firehouse for the guys to read. He felt like it took away from the book’s life journey if it started to collect dust on a shelf. I couldn’t help but feel a little attacked, considering I hoarded everything I ever bought. Probably, there was a healthy medium somewhere between both of us.
When I glanced back to him, his eyes moved over me too. I was also in my favorite jeans and a sweater. I’d been wearing lipstick regularly now because it really did make me feel powerful, and I had lined my eyes with liquid liner because practice made progress. And they looked halfway decent. I’d been feeling prettier lately. I wasn’t sure if it was because I made an effort more regularly, or if Pace’s confidence had seeped into my skin through osmosis of us spending so much time together, but when he said I looked good, I was starting to believe him.
“You look great,” he said again now, like he did every time he saw me, but there was a hint of regret.
He’d sounded so excited to hang out when we chatted earlier, so it surprised me how subdued he acted now.
Was he about to cancel our not-a-date night? Was that a feeling of regret fornotgoing out? Normally, canceled plans were my favorite sort of plans.
“Are you okay?” I asked. He was different tonight, still handsome and charismatic, but there was a softness to him, a blurring of edges like he’d been sleeping.
“Yeah, for sure. I am ready to hit the town. It’s the, uh, tree lighting tonight?” He rubbed his hands together eagerly, but it rang false.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Pumpkin throwing,” I said, purposely setting him up to make a joke. “Those things aren’t going to toss themselves.”
“Oh, yeah, right.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked again. “It’s not like you to forget an event where your adoring fans will be waiting.”
He laughed, but it was half-hearted at best. I didn’t know Pace even ran a half-hearted setting.
“I feel ... weird,” he admitted.
“Are you getting sick?” I asked, itching to cover my face with the collar of my shirt.
“Did you just back up?” he asked with incredulity.
“No,” I lied, backing up more.
“You so did. But I’m not getting sick. I just feel ...” He rubbed at his chest. “Like tired at the thought of putting on shoes and going out there and interacting and all of it.”
I fought to hide my growing disappointment because this was about him. Also, there was a part of me that was very excited by what he had begun to describe.
“I think I know this condition,” I said with concerned nodding, like a doctor hearing symptoms.
“Condition? I’m not?—”
“It’s I-don’t-want-to-go-itus. The opposite of FOMO. It can be very serious in some cases.” I steepled my fingers at my chin.“The only cure is to stay in for the night. I can see this is your first time with this affliction, and I can help you through it.”
As he watched, a slow smile pulled at his mouth. “I must have caught it from you,” he said, playing right along.
I nodded sadly. “Probably. Yes. Can be highly contagious in awesome company.”
“That explains it.” I smiled at the floor, and he added, “What do I do?”
“Stay in. Rewatch favorite movies. Eat comfort delivery food. Listen to emo songs from your youth to make yourself cry. Try to be as antisocial as possible, and it should clear up by tomorrow.”
