25. Nicole
Chapter twenty-five
Nicole
M olly grips my arm and whispers, “What was that?”
I meet her eyes and, seeing a twinkle of I-told-you-so, quickly glance away.
“What was what?” I feign innocence. I press my fingers to my cheeks, trying to cool them. What was that? That reaction. I’m not sure I can even explain it. I saw that woman with her smug smile, her hand on Adam’s arm, and suddenly I couldn’t focus on anything else. She asked him out? Would he have said yes? Yeah, we’ve been connecting lately, flirting a bit even, but it’s not like Adam and I are dating. I have no claim on him. So why, in that moment of Adam talking to another woman, did my heart beat steadily with the refrain “Mine. Mine. Mine”?
I frantically catch my sister’s eye, mouthing, “Do I like Adam?”
Molly rolls her eyes. “Obviously,” she whispers. “That’s what Olivia and I have been trying to tell you for months now.”
But … I think I like Adam not because he likes me. I think I like him because he’s smart and funny and supportive and interesting and attractive. I think I would like him even if he wasn’t interested in me.
Just then, Adam joins us in the hallway. “Are we ready for dinner?” he asks, his eyes bright.
Molly glances at me quickly, then says, “Absolutely. I know the place. We can walk there from here.”
Adam smiles. “Perfect,”
The three of us walk to a nearby restaurant. I’m quiet, my brain still reeling over my revelation. Adam’s my coworker, my … friend. I look toward him as he chats with Molly. A lock of his hair falls across his forehead, and he lifts his hand to brush it away. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he laughs at something she says. I think about the photo he hung in my office, his sour gummy worms, the daily memes, how his steadying presence kept me on track throughout the graphic novel project. He’s deep and layered; serious and calm on the surface, but with these hidden charms that make me like him more and more as I discover each one.
He looks at me and smiles. My heart thunks in my chest, and I smile softly back at him. We hold each other’s gazes over Molly’s head for several seconds.
Then, I hear Molly call, “Um, guys? ”
I shake my head, breaking eye contact, and realize that Molly has stopped while Adam and I kept walking. I turn back and blink at my sister, who gestures with her right hand.
“We’re here,” she says.
I take in the two-story stone structure in front of us, a wrought iron balcony stretching across the top floor. We enter through the open door, and inside it’s crowded and loud, tables pushed together with hardly enough space to walk between them. Even though we have a roof over our heads, it feels like we’re still outside—the walls being mostly windows and those windows being mostly open without screens to block the flow to the street. The floors are rough cobblestone, and a heavy oak bar fills the back wall, dozens of bottles lined up behind it.
“This pub has the best po’boys,” Molly tells us. “The other food is good, too. And,” her eyes catch mine as she smirks, “they have really good tater tots.”
That gets my attention. I grin at her. “What are we waiting for? Let’s eat some tots!”
There’s a short wait, but we’re seated quickly. As we order, my eyes wander again and again to Adam. Half the time when I glance at him, he’s already looking at me. I smile shyly. My thoughts bang around inside my head as I try to make sense of my new realization, and what might come next.
I shake my head and focus my attention on Molly. We don’t get to see each other too often, so I want to make the most of this time.
“How’s work going?” I ask her.
“Fine…” She grimaces.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, it’s just they added a new researcher to my team. Jonathan.” She makes a face.
“You don’t like Jonathan?” Adam asks.
“We just … tend to always be competing for the same grants, same positions. I’ve known him for a couple of years now. And he’s … smug.”
“Well, there’s no way he’s as brilliant as you,” I say confidently. “You’ll show him who’s boss.”
“Maybe.” Molly looks unsure.
“And how’s Beaker?” I change the subject, figuring she’d rather talk about her cat. Molly brightens and starts going on about the cute things Beaker has been doing.
“I admit Beaker is cute,” I say. “But I just don’t get the appeal of cats in general.”
Molly mockingly gasps. “Really, Nicole. You’re a librarian. You’re like legally required to be a cat person!”
“Well.” I grin. “I’ve always been a bit of a rebel.”
“I do know this about you.” Molly smiles.
“Seriously, though. Dogs are so much better. I wish I could get one, but I’m in the apartment right now, and it just doesn’t make sense. Someday…” I trail off. “Oh! Adam has the sweetest dog!”
I feel the weight of Adam’s eyes on me as I say this, but I keep my focus on Molly, who’s smirking.
“Oh,” she says. “You’ve met Adam’s dog?”
I ignore her and turn to Adam. “How old is Joan?” I ask .
Adam tells us about Joan and the conversation flows from there. I’m surprised how much Adam contributes. This is the most I’ve seen him talk outside of a one-on-one conversation. He makes us laugh with his wry observations.
Our food arrives, and the loaded tater tots I ordered are so good. I’ve been doing a lot of walking while here at the conference, so I splurge a bit on my food.
As we finish up, Molly pulls out her phone to grab a rideshare back to her apartment. Adam and I wait with her outside the restaurant, but it’s only a few minutes before the car pulls up. I give her a hug. As she gets in the car and it drives away, I wave goofily after her, seeing her shake her head at me through the window. Adam watches me with an amused look on his face. When the car is out of sight, I drop my hand, turn toward Adam, and we start walking together back in the direction of the hotel.
Though we’re both quiet, it’s not awkward. It’s comfortable. Companionable. There’s an undercurrent of … something as we walk. A subtext hearkening back to my feelings after the presentation, before dinner. My shoulder bumps his arm. Gently, Adam grasps my hand with his, weaving our fingers together. My heart thumps in my chest, the warmth of his skin setting me on fire. People bustle all around us, heading to the bars and clubs on this Saturday night. Cars rev their engines; a group of women celebrating a bachelorette party, decked out in sparkly tiaras and pink feather boas, laugh loudly as they pass us on the sidewalk; music spills into the street from several directions. But we’re in our own bubble, Adam and I, insulated from the noise, locked into this serene moment, walking hand in hand down the streets of New Orleans. Silently. Both knowing that this seemingly inconsequential stroll is a turning point in our relationship, changing everything.
In the elevator ride up to our rooms, Adam studies me. We still don’t speak. His brown eyes darken, almost blending in with his pupils in the muted light, but they’re soft, deep. He walks me to my door, where he drops my hand, and I finally break the silence.
“You keep surprising me,” I say softly.
“Good,” he whispers huskily, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Good night, Nicole.”
“Good n-night,” I stutter, unlocking the door.
I enter my room, and the door thunks closed behind me. I peer through the peephole, watching Adam walk down the hall toward his own room. In a daze, I get ready for bed. I lie in the dark, my head spinning, until I finally fall asleep with a smile on my lips.