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Oh yeah… I also have a new friend. A new male friend.
Is that what Devlyn is? Myfriend? That is not a question evenIcan answer. Devlyn feels like more than a friend, yet not a romantic interest. At least, that is what I tell myself. Over the past two weeks, I have gotten to know a fraction of what makes the man. But Devlyn is still a mystery, and I feel a bit like Nancy Drew trying to figure him out.
“Work’s been good. Tonight’s been fun with everyone.” I bite the end of a dough-wrapped mummy dog. “Just so happy for Cora and Autumn.”
Micah narrows his gaze; his twin eyes study mine in search of falsehoods. But nothing I said was a lie, so…
He lays a hand on my shoulder, his thumb stroking back and forth as his eyes resume their normal shape. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” I nod but don’t say a word. “Just need to know everything is okay. Thatyou’reokay. I need you, Shell.”
I don’t miss the undertone in his words. Fear. Worry. Love. The backs of my eyes sting. An expanding ball of emotion forms in my throat. A tsunami of love builds in my chest. Micah isn’t emotionally detached, but he also doesn’t freely share how he feels. For him to openly express such things, it hits harder than expected.
I never lie to my brother. Not about the important stuff, anyway.
As of now, there isn’t much to share with him about Devlyn. When something notable happens, he will be one of the first to know. After Cora.
Now, though, Devlyn and I are friends. Nothing more.
“I need you too, big brother.” Twisting in my seat, I snake my arms around his torso and hug him hard. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” He feigns a cough and I shake my head. “Sorry. Trouble breathing.” He smacks his chest over his lungs.
In the affection department, Micah and I have been opposites for years. Since he and Payton became serious, he leans more toward the mushy category and I don’t think he knows how to handle it. So I give him a free pass. Let him fake his cough rather than own his emotion. But I love how Peyton has made him a better person. Caring and soft and more sensitive.
The night carries on like our Sunday get-togethers, with added special treats and a mountain of candy. With each new conversation, bout of laughter, and hug given, I am thankful to have this tremendous group of people in my life. People I love and who love me in return.
Perhaps one day, I will have someone special at my side. Someone new to our inner circle.
One day.
* * *
Fifteen minutes early.Better than being late, I suppose.
I park in the lot for the Black Cat Tavern, but don’t shut off the car. It may be the beginning of November, but the cool weather won’t hit this part of Florida for at least another four to six weeks. So, I scroll through social media and clear notifications while the air conditioner blows my hair and dries out my skin. I click the heart reaction on a few Halloween photos friends posted. Comment on those same posts with praise for costumes or treats or candy hauls.
Then I look out the windshield and spot Devlyn’s black SUV. A BMW as mysterious as the artist himself.How does he afford such an expensive car?Maybe artist incomes are better than I realized. Murals on flower shop walls don’t pay for cars like his. With his talent, he probably commissions work often, sells pieces online, and isn’t hurting for paychecks. Or women.
I shake my head at the errant thought.
Devlyn is a good-looking guy, no sense in denying it. Beautiful in an unconventional way. Some may disagree due to his lack of thick muscles, but I see beyond the outer layer. Sure, I can lie to myself until blue in the face, but doing so is pointless.
I enjoy looking at him. Being in the same space as him. Talking with him.
Our conversations, even the most mundane, are my favorite. Less than twenty words might be shared between us and the conversation feels profound. Those brief, meaningful conversations are one of his most attractive features. One of many.
I cut the engine, stow my phone in my purse, and step out. Before I close the car door, he spots me across the lot. He stops walking and locks on to me with his sunglasses-covered eyes. As if my mere presence is a beacon. And that notion does strange things to my head and heart. Makes me dizzy. Has my stomach in knots and my pulse jumping hurdles. Makes my knees weak.
My reaction to him gives me pause. Has me unsure how to proceed after such an emotional response. On unsteady feet, for sure.
Devlyn has given me no indication he likes me more than a friend. All the kind gestures—drinks, lunch, conversations—weren’t only bestowed upon me. Elizabeth was included in those treats, although she may argue that he included her to disguise his true intentions. That said, he also hasn’t given any signs to state the opposite either. When he suggested we hang out, spend time together, just the two of us, he emphasized the word friend. A little too much. Like he needed to stress the word before I agreed. Still not sure if the emphasis is for my benefit or his.
I try not to give it much landscape in my head.
His stride resumes, picks ups steam, and he reaches me five breaths later. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry you had to wait.”
I shake my head, then swallow past the dryness in my throat. “No need to apologize. I haven’t been here long. Didn’t want to be late. So I occupied myself with the black hole that is social media.” Cue rambling Shelly. God, he must think me an idiot. I sure as hell would. The babbling woman who blushes more than any person her age.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from blurting more nonsense, and I swear he notices. A half smile flashes on his lips and has me biting a little harder.
