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“You up for taking the Metro?” he asks me after we’ve walked a block.
I nod, despite the fact I’ve never ridden New York’s subway system before and have never had any interest in doing so.
After another block, we descend stairs into a brightly lit, bustling station. The breezy night air turns stagnant and stale. Oliver buys a card at one of the kiosks,laughsat me when I try to pay for it, and then demonstrates how to swipe through the turnstile in order to reach the tracks.
Every move is practiced and efficient, displaying the calm confidence I’m used to witnessing from Oliver. He wasn’t lying about taking public transit before, obviously. Oliver navigates the crowds and commotion with ease, waiting for one train to pass and then guiding me into the next one once the doors open.
The car we step into is already packed with people. All the plastic seats are taken, the nearest one by an elderly woman holding a paper bag filled with groceries.
I move quickly through the mass of bored and urgent faces, grabbing onto the nearest metal pole as soon as I reach it. Still, I’m unprepared for the sudden lurch once the doors close. I stumble back a step as the subway starts to move, colliding with a warm, muscular body. Expensive cologne replaces the scent of mustiness and sweat.
Oliver’s arm snakes around my waist to steady me, absorbing every stagger and stumble as the train races along the underground tracks. I wobble when the brakes unexpectedly engage, leaning more solidly against Oliver as the doors open at the next stop.
His chuckle is low and amused as bodies shift around us, so close it sends a shiver down my spine. “You should have worn your flip-flops.”
My face flames. I don’t like that he’s seen me so relaxed. That he knows me well enough to say that. It’s a reminder of how much else he knows. How much else he’s seen. “They didn’t go with my dress.”
“Then you should have worn jeans.”
“I figured you’d be wearing a suit.”
I tug at the sleeve of his jacket to prove a point, but since his hand is splayed across my stomach, I end up brushing his skin with more of a caress than an emphasis. A breath catches in my throat when his hold on me tightens.
“And I was right,” I add.
The doors shut and we begin moving again.
“It’s a busy week at work,” he says.
I’m certain a busy week at work is a normal week for Oliver, but I don’t say that. How many hours he spends at the office is none of my business. And if he really does have even more than usual going on, I can’t believe he’s taking the time to bring me wherever we’re going.
After two more stops, Oliver drops his hand. My abdomen feels bereft without the weight and warmth of it. “This is us.”
I follow two teenage girls off the subway. They’re giggling, glancing over one shoulder every few steps. They’re looking at Oliver, I realize, as we reach the stairs. I hope I was more subtle checking guys out when I was their age, but probably not.
I’m so focused on the high schoolers that I stumble again, this time with no excuse but my own clumsiness.
Once again, Oliver is there to steady me.
Don’t get used to it,I tell myself.
I thought I craved independence too much. That my failure to follow through on a committed relationship was tied to me, not something missing. But something was: trust. Not the logical, quantifiable type that can be defined by reliability stacking up over time. The raw, instinctual kind, that is simply there, or it isn’t. The catch after a fall.
“Maybe you should go barefoot,” Oliver suggests.
I glance at the cement steps, stained with spilled drinks and dirt and who knows what else. “No thanks.”
He lets go of my arm. But his fingers weave with mine, intertwining until there’s no mistaking we’re holding hands.
“You’re stubborn.”
“You’re the billionaire with no car.”
Oliver huffs a laugh, faintly amused. “Is that what you look for in a guy? A fancy car to take you out in?”
There’s a lot lurking beneath the question. Enough for me to hear he took my words as a judgment. As a shortcoming.
I was just trying to distract myself from how it feels to have his hand gripping mine.
