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Dax shrugs, running his fingers through his wavy hair, sending a whiff of his ocean-scented shampoo in my direction.
“It wasn’t as busy as I wanted it to be.” He sighs. “I don’t know if foot traffic is down or this just isn’t the year for custom sneakers, but it hasn’t been a great month. What about you?”
Now I’m not quite sure that I want to tell him that although I’ve only briefly glanced at Other Gemma’s forecast, my guess is that I’ve doubled my sales for the month. Instead, I go with an honest, “I had some very chatty customers today. It felt like I barely blinked before you showed up on my doorstep.”
Hess Village is bumping when we arrive, packed with a mix of the work crowd, still in their business casual, celebrating the end of another week, and the tight-jeaned, crop-topped party crowd, getting an early start to the weekend.
“What vibe are we going for tonight?” Dax points to one of the busy pubs. “The Pauper? Or the Duck?”
The Prince and Pauper is a brightly lit pub. It’s busy and loud, with live music and a street-facing patio that’s already packed.
The Laughing Duck is far more low-key. Dim lighting, spaced-out tables. Quiet. Romantic. Coltrane in the background.
“Let’s hit the Pauper. I’m in the mood for a cold beer.” And I’m panicking. The dress shirt has tripped me up. There’s an entire yarn ball of feelings rolling around inside me, and they’re way too tangled to figure out at this moment.
I don’t miss the brief look of disappointment that flashes across Dax’s face before he nods and replies, “Cool.” He leads the way to the patio, where the hostess tells us there’s a twenty-minute waitlist for a seat, but inside is a free-for-all. If we can find an empty table, it’s ours.
We head in and find that the indoor seating is almost as full as the outdoor. No empty tables, not even seats at the bar. I can practically sense Dax wanting to say,Why don’t we head to the Duck?
In sheer panic mode, I scan the room, hoping to chance across someone looking like they might be getting ready to leave. Instead, I spot two people making perfect eye contact and waving atme.
I have absolutely no idea who they are.
“Friends of yours?” Dax leans in, and I’m temporarily distracted by his warm breath on my neck, suddenly acutely aware of our proximity.
“Uh…I think so?” I squint my eyes, looking for further clues or clarity to their identities and finding nothing. “And it looks like they have room to spare.”
“Do you want to join them or try somewhere else?”
Before I can answer him, a bachelorette party woos by. The last pink-boa-wearer underestimates the room she needs to squeeze through. As she passes, she stumbles a little, jostling me andknocking my back into Dax’s front. I’m briefly acquainted with the fit muscles of Dax’s chest and the warmth from his hands as he steadies my hips.
“You okay?” he asks, turning my shoulders so I’m facing him.
“No permanent damage.”
The space between us is mere inches. We’re so close that I catch the faintest hint of mint. Whether it’s from gum or a toothbrush, all I can think is,That’s kissing breath.And then,Is Dax planning on kissing me?
Oh shit.
My heart is booming so hard that I worry it’s going to dislodge itself. I press my hands to my chest just to hold it in.
I think I want him to kiss me.
I mean, that’s been my plan all along. But Aunt Livi was pretty insistent that we keep the proper order of the cleanse. Not to mention it may also ruin four solid years of beautiful friendship. The smart thing would be to get off this train to heartbreak before it leaves the station. Yet, I’m still running my tongue over my teeth, kicking myself for not taking a few moments to make a minimal effort earlier to freshen up.
“What are you thinking?” Dax’s deep voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
I debate my answer until it dawns on me that his question is about the table.
“Let’s stay here.” I chicken out, using a voice an octave higher than normal. “Haven’t seen those guys in ages.” Or ever.
“Okay,” says Dax’s mouth, but his eyes betray him. And I get a weird twisting in my stomach because even though this plan was my call, I think I’m disappointed too.
“Shall we?” Dax holds out his arm, allowing me to lead the way. I don’t miss that as I pass, he places his fingers ever so lightly on the small of my back.
I weave us through the crowd until we reach the table, too preoccupied with the heat from his hand and the way it permeates through the cotton of my camisole to figure out how the hell I’m going to navigate introductions.
If I had any doubts that the eye contact and invitation to sit were meant for me, they are erased as we approach the table, and the woman sitting there jumps to her feet, holding her arms out for a hug.
