“I ordered the five-beer sampler. They brew all their beers on-site, apparently. And I got us a basket of thyme and cheddar biscuits.”
“That sounds incredible.” Until he said that, I didn’t realize how hungry I was.
“They’re my favorite thing here, though the pulled pork nachos are awesome, too.”
I glanced down at my lap and grinned. “Thank you for thinking of my dignity.”
“In that dress, I promise your dignity is not remotely on my mind.”
Okay, enough. “Ty, you have to stop flirting with me. I can’t take it.”
“Sorry. It’s just that when I look at you, I forget about being smart and reasonable and I just—” For once he seemed to be at a loss for words.
“I get it,” I said softly. “You have the same pull for me. But you’re the one who said you don’t date.”
“I’m sorry. We probably shouldn’t even be here.”
I stared at him. “Why?”
“Because no matter how I try, I can’t think of you as my buddy Nadia, Sam’s teacher Nadia, my cool neighbor Nadia. You’re just Nadia, who I desperately want to see naked.”
“You’re not the only one struggling with that,” I murmured.
“Why?” He paused for a single, mischievous beat. “You see yourself naked all the time.”
I laughed, teasing him. “And it’s amazing. Sometimes I don’t leave the house for days.”
The band came on then, forestalling whatever he might’ve said, but the glint in his eyes promised delightful retribution. The fact that we could joke around gave me hope for salvaging our friendship. If sex would ruin things, we could work around it. Right?
Five minutes later, the server brought beer and biscuits, so we had grub when the music started. Both were delicious; I sampled all five of the brews, though I didn’t finish any. Ty devoured the rest. Broken Arrow’s set lasted for two hours, give or take, and had more of a bluesy tone than I expected, given Ty’s other musical inclinations, but the group was talented, full of energy and fun to watch. They engaged the audience, got us clapping and singing along. Since I didn’t know the words, I mostly hummed. Then they played a fifteen-minute encore, at which point, Ty glanced toward the door.
“Should we head out?”
Just before eleven, the place was pretty packed. It was getting harder to hear him for people talking, and since we’d come to see the show—and now we had—the night was done. Disappointment flicked through me, yet I pushed to my feet.
“Sure. We have the drive back—”
“Are you in a hurry to get home?” he asked, visibly downcast.
“No, I thought you were.”
“Then as long as we’re in Ann Arbor, we can’t go without dinner at the Fleetwood. They have the best meaty hash.”
“I only understood half of those words.”
“Can you walk in those shoes? From here, it’s, like, three blocks, maybe five minutes at the most. It would probably take longer to move the car.”
“Sure, I’m fine.” As soon as I said that, turning to follow him, I stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk.
Ty grabbed my hand to steady me and he didn’t let go. As our fingers laced together, I half closed my eyes, savoring the rasp of his calluses and the heat of his skin. Crazy that palm-on-palm contact could make me feel like this. Maybe it was because we’d agreed it would never happen, but the little things had never gotten to me so much before.
“This way, come on.”
As promised, it wasn’t far at all. The Fleetwood Diner was the consummate dive, housed in an Airstream trailer. Inside there were so few tables that it seemed like more than fifteen people couldn’t fit, and it was chilly enough that sitting outside was out of the question. Luckily, a table for two was open and Ty grabbed it.
The servers were weird, rude almost, but Ty claimed that was part of the charm. Since I wanted to talk to him anyway and not the waitress, I was cool with that. On his advice, I got the meaty hash, and it was insanely good. While we ate, he talked a little more about his job, and from there, he moved on to his family.
I took the opening to ask, “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Two sisters, both older. But they don’t live in Michigan. Sarah’s in California and Valerie went to Florida.”
“Whoa. They both went a long way chasing the sun.”
“You’ll laugh but I swear that was exactly why they moved. No more Michigan winters. My mom and dad have talked about joining Val in a few years.” He hesitated, scraping the food around on his plate with his fork. “I kinda suspect they’re only still here because of me.”
“In case you need help with Sam?”
“Yeah. I try not to make them feel like they’re obligated, but—”
“They’re your parents, and they love you. They love Sam, too. It’s their choice, Ty. You have to learn how to accept help. Saying, hey, I need a hand here doesn’t mean you’re failing, only that you’re human.”
He scowled at me. “Have you been talking to my mom?”
“Yeah, we get together to gossip about you over coffee.”
With a mock-shiver, he rubbed his arms. “That wouldn’t surprise me. Mom is crafty.”
By this time, the servers were giving us the stink eye, making me think this was a place where they encouraged you to eat and get out. Not surprising, considering the dining room size. Ty paid the bill over my protests and then we walked back to the car. When he took my hand, I didn’t say anything, though I was steady on my feet.
I love you, I thought.
It wasn’t rockets or fireworks or any of the Hollywood effects I’d been led to expect. Instead, it was crisp air lightly touched by the scent of burning wood, spiced with insatiable longing. A bonfire was burning nearby, and love was Ty’s hand around mine, warm and fast, binding us together. Other people walked down the sidewalk, but they weren’t part of us. They had their own lives, heading to clubs whose music pounded out of open doorways. This was a perfect moment, one I’d remember forever. Because I’ve never been in love before. It didn’t matter that he didn’t feel the same way, or that he wouldn’t let himself.
Not all love stories end happily. Sometimes they just end.
And I could see the blind curve looming in the distance while I raced with him down this slope. At this point, the crash seemed inevitable, but I couldn’t make myself leap out of the car. So I walked with him, noticing everything, like the way he matched his strides to mine without realizing, the way he turned to look at me when we passed beneath a lamppost, as if he didn’t want to miss a single glimpse. His thumb slid back and forth over the heel of my hand, and he played with my fingers, shaping them, until longing spiraled inside me like a typhoon. My chest wasn’t big enough to hold this feeling, for the sweet intensity of it.