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His forehead wrinkles. “I’ll see you home, Kenzie.”
“You didn’t see me here.” I raise an eyebrow.
“That’s only because I came straight from the office. Otherwise, I would have,” he says it with finality as though there’s no argument to be had.
And it’s not that I won’t enjoy his company or don’t appreciate him making sure I arrive home okay, but being trapped beside him in the dark where our knees occasionally grazed each other’s for two hours has made me feel like a strung bow, ready to snap.
“This isn’t a date, Andrew. You don’t need to be so chivalrous.” Maybe reaffirming that this isn’t a date will help ease some of the tension that’s been building inside me all evening.
His lips press into a thin line. “I don’t need the reminder. But like I said before, your brother would have my head if he knew I was with you and sent you on your way alone in the dark.”
“My brother doesn’t even know we know one another.”
He looks mildly uncomfortable. “I’m walking you home. No arguments. Now, should we head to the tube?”
I study him for a beat and see no sign of him backing down, so I turn and head toward the nearest subway station. “To the tube, I guess.”
Once again, he positions himself so that he’s walking on the side of the sidewalk closest to the road.
I look at him. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Always walk on that side?”
We separate for a moment when a man having an argument with someone on the phone makes it clear he’s not going to go around us, but through. Ah, New York.
When Andrew doesn’t answer for a second, I look back at him, and he shrugs. “It’s just proper etiquette. If a car veers off the road or something, I’ll take the brunt of the impact, thereby sparing you.”
“You know, for a real grump, you’re quite chivalrous.”
He rolls his eyes, but I swear the color in his cheeks deepens to a further pink.
We reach the subway station and make it to the platform just as my train is pulling up, so we rush on and take the first two seats we find seated side by side. Oh great, more knee brushing.
Mentioning my brother has me curious about something, so I figure I’ll ask Andrew. “I was talking to my brother last week and he mentioned that he’s been seeing someone for a while. Have you met her?”
“Zahra?”
I nod.
“Yes, a few times.” There must be some kind of reaction on my face because he says, “You haven’t met her?” His brows furrow.
I shake my head. “I didn’t even know Finn was dating someone special until he called to invite me to Thanksgiving dinner.”
He studies me for a moment as though he’s waiting for me to say something more. When I don’t, an anxious expression flits across his face, but it’s gone in an instant.
“What’s she like?”
He contemplates his answer for a moment. “She’s lovely. Smart, pretty. She seems to make your brother happy, from everything I’ve witnessed.”
I nod, happy to know my brother has found someone. We sit in silence for a few minutes—or as silent as a New York City subway train can be on a Friday night—before he shifts to face me better.
“Is there a reason you didn’t know about Zahra until recently? I thought you and Finn were close?” His voice is filled with compassion as though he worries the words might be painful for me to hear.
Which in a way is true, but probably not for the reasons Andrew thinks.
“Finn and I… well, it’s complicated. We’re not that close. Not for any reason in particular. It’s probably a lot of things. The differences in our ages, our interests… in how we grew up.”
