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Autumn
Rowan can’t possibly be thinking about the friends-with-benefits thing. Can he? He’s been quiet for too long. Again. No way he’s thinking about it.
Am I?
I still can’t believe that popped out of my mouth, but it was too funny not to say it. And now, it’s out there. This thing between us. Did I go too far? Have I not gone far enough?
Trying to diffuse the tension, I tell him, “You’re not the only one who needs some fun around here.”
“You have your app.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh yeah. Big fun. Remember the guy I told you about?”
“Bill, right?”
“He filed a complaint with the app, telling them about what I wrote in the bathroom at Pinkston’s. According to them, he sent pictures. No clue if he made the poor server take the pictures for him, or if he braved the women’s room himself, but either way, I’ve been booted off the app.”
“There are others—
“Yeah, but it seems like so much work.”
Rowan smirks. “Speaking of work, maybe you could meet a guy there.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“How come?”
“A lot of what I do is engagement and wedding photography, which means I spend most of my days with allegedly happy couples, and do you know how many times I’ve been hit on by recently engaged or newly wed men? It’s depressing.”
His smirk dips into a frown. “Damn.”
“All. The. Time. Seriously, when you work in any kind of service industry, people don’t see you as a person anymore. You’re just someone who does things for them.”
“Well, you’re a person to me.”
I smile and roll my eyes again. “Thanks. Same to you.”
“So, since we’re both not interested in dating, but we both need to have a little fun—
“Yes?” My heart clutched at my throat.
“What do you say, you and I do more together? We can meet up for dinners, go to the theater, all that stuff. Things we used to do before marriage and kids and business got in the way.”
Okay, it’s not sex, but it’s something. And I could use something. Also, it’s probably a good thing he doesn’t mean sex.
“I’m in,” I say.
We clink our glasses in agreement and finish our meal. In the car, we talk like nothing is going on. Things feel normal-ish.
But when he walks me to my apartment door, I feel it. That thing. The hint of pressure at the end of a date that tells you it’s a date. Not exactly butterflies, but something in my stomach feels off when he stands there looking at me for a moment too long. Is he going to kiss me?
Rowan leans in, and I will not deny it. I want this. Do I? I close my eyes and feel his arms around me. Briefly. And then, there’s the friendly back pat at the end of the hug. He pulls back, innocent as can be. “I’ll call you, and we’ll go out. To a movie or something.”
“Uh, sounds good.” I try to recover some dignity and hope he didn’t notice I was moving in for a kiss. “Maybe meet somewhere less fancy next time?”
“Of course.”
We say goodnight and I walk into my apartment and hang my head in shame. Thank God, he didn’t notice I went for the kiss.
