Jordan
I’m being a coward, and if I’m completely honest with myself, I don’t really have a problem with it.
Maybe I should, from the having-pride standpoint, but Kira and I have done this song and dance a few times over the years, and by now, if I can avoid the mess that is the “No, I don’t think us trying again is a good idea” talk, I will.
We take a walk to the restaurant, Kira and me. She hooks her arm through mine as we walk. Throws her head back and laughs. A lot of her sentences start with “Remember when…”
Remember us. Remember how good we were.
We walk, and my shoulders keep getting more and more tense while I try my best not to show it.
We get to the restaurant, and the hostess greets us with a polite, distant smile. “The rest of your party has already arrived,” she says.
Kira looks startled, then aims a raised-brow look at me.
“Oh, I invited Milán,” I say. “I hope you don’t mind?”
Kira sends me a tight smile. “The more, the merrier.”
True to the hostess’s words, Milán is already at the table, comfortably lounging in his chair, looking like he hasn’t got a care in the world. He’s alert, though. I don’t know what exactly tips me off about it, but somewhere along the way, I’ve become proficient in reading his body language.
He gets up when we approach the table, a lazy smile tilting the corners of his lips up.
“You know, I used to be the kind of person who was always late, but ever since meeting you I find myself respecting other people’s time.” He grins at me. “It’s the strangest thing.”
“I’ve had plenty of time over the years to perfect my silent disapproval,” I say, and we both laugh.
Kira looks between the two of us with a dubious expression.
“Saved you a seat,” Milán says, like he always does when the two of us go out to eat. It’s almost an inside joke by now. I slide onto the chair while Milán gallantly pulls out a chair for Kira before he takes his own seat again.
A waitress comes over shortly after with the menus, and for the next half an hour, Milán aims all his charm at Kira, so all I have to do is sit back and relax. The first is easy, the second, I don’t think I’ll manage. Until, surprisingly, I do.
Milán asks Kira about her job, and they exchange stories about San Francisco and laugh about each other’s travel stories.
I should be grateful.
Instead, my smile starts to feel increasingly sour around the edges. I’m not sure why it bothers me. The way the two of them keep talking and finding common experiences, common things to laugh about. And still, something about it makes me restless.
I try to ignore it. I laugh when they laugh, even if it’s starting to feel like I’m trying to join in on a song I don’t know the lyrics to. I laugh…but it’s always a beat too late.
It shouldn’t matter. I shouldn’t be feeling this way. But our table feels crowded, and I can’t help but feel it’s me who’s the third wheel.
What if Milán is into Kira?
I blink and the conversation becomes a distant murmur in my ears that I can’t decipher anymore because my mind is moving a million miles a minute in a separate direction.
She’s impossibly beautiful. He’s ridiculously handsome. They obviously have things in common—more than I have with either of them, it’s starting to feel. They’re both well-traveled, worldly, interesting people.
I’ve lived my whole life in the same place and have barely been out of state, unless you count my trips to San Francisco to drop Theo off at Kira’s place. My whole identity is being a single father. I have a GED and absolutely no career achievements or even prospects.
The dating profile practically writes itself.
I stop blinking. I feel as stupid as I would if I’d been caught doing something extremely dumb.
What does it matter if they like each other? Who am I jealous of here, anyway? I categorically don’t want to get back together with Kira. That ship has sailed, sunk, and the wreckage has been dragged off to a museum as a cautionary tale.
Well.
Then Milán.
But…
That wouldn’t make much sense.
I’m straight.
I’ve never felt the slightest bit of interest in men in my life.
Well, if we’re being pedantic here, you haven’t really been interested in anybody since Kira.
Okay, so I’m still into Kira, then.
Only… when I look at her, I don’t feel much of anything. There’s affection, but that’s all. No sparks, no butterflies, no racing heartbeat.
I glance at Milán again.
My heart gives a succession of loud thumps.
Pointless to draw any conclusions from that, though. I’ve already made things weird, so now I feel weird.
I jerk when something touches my calf, and my knee rams into the underside of the table so hard I have to scramble to stop my wine glass from tipping over.
Milán raises his brows at me.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod like a marionette doll, my head bobbing up and down with exaggerated movements.
“Fine.” Only then do I look around. “Where’s Kira?”
Milán sends me a funny look. “She went to the bathroom a second ago.” He laughs. “Where’s your head at?”
I force myself to exhale before I reach for my water and drain the glass.
When I put the glass down and look up, I find Milán eyeing me curiously.
“I’ve had too little sleep,” I say.
“And here I thought that was your superpower.”
“It’s malfunctioning?”
Kira slides back into her seat. “Dessert? I’ve been craving a good slice of cheesecake. It’s the one thing I just can’t seem to find properly done anywhere in San Francisco. Almost makes it seem like it’d be worth it to move back just for that.”
My laugh is strained, even if I try to hide it. The meaningful look Kira sends me isn’t even the least bit subtle.
I spend the rest of the dinner wondering how terrible of a person it makes me that I just wish Kira would go back to San Francisco.
That I wish she hadn’t come to this dinner at all.
The walk back home is short and filled with random small talk about the food and weather.
We stop in front of the house, and I look up at my bedroom window. I suddenly feel very tired. There are too many thoughts in my head and too much confusion. I just want to go to bed, wake up in the morning, drive Kira to the airport, and go back to normal.
“Do you live nearby, Milán?” Kira asks.
“Close enough.” He shrugs.
“It was nice of you to walk us home.” She smiles at him, and Milán sends her one of his easy grins.
I think I’m supposed to say something here. Acknowledge that… I’m here? I honestly don’t know anymore.
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m beat,” Kira says once the silence starts to stretch between the three of us.
“It’s getting late.” Milán gives her a relaxed smile, completely lacking the somewhat self-conscious edge he’s been carrying around ever since I met him.
It’s like a glimpse of the other Milán. The one who’s in his element and confident in himself.
Ridiculously, this version of Milán makes me cautious.
What I perceive as him being in his element also makes me feel out of my element.
“Jordan?” Kira says. “We better head inside, so Milán can go home.”
“Right,” I say. “Yeah. Of course.”
I look at Milán, who’s still smiling, but when he looks back at me, I don’t get the feeling of him being somebody different. Instead, it almost feels like the two of us are sharing a secret, but I don’t know what the secret is. I can’t read his mind, but I don’t feel like I’m imagining it either.
“Good night,” Kira says.
“Night,” Milán says with an almost lazy cadence to his voice.
She starts to walk, and I turn to look at Milán. I shrug, even if I’m not quite sure why.
“Thanks for coming,” I say. “I had fun.”
That’s a lie. I have no idea how to describe what this night was, but fun wouldn’t be my first choice. I’m leaning more toward confusing and weird.
“Wait,” he says when I start to turn. “Stay for a second. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
Kira stops on the threshold and tilts her head to the side in question.
“I just need to ask something about soccer quickly,” Milán says.
Kira nods, and we watch her go inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click. I turn to look at Milán.
“What about soccer?” I ask.
He waves me off, and for a second his eyes remain on the door before he turns to me.
“I could do something that would solve your current problem. But it’s a really dumb idea, and I don’t think we should.”
I blink at him.
“That’s quite a pitch.”
“I’m known for those. The question is, are you in?”
I have no idea what he plans to do, or what I’m signing up for, and usually I would care a lot. I haven’t taken any kind of risks since Kira came to me with tears in her eyes and a positive pregnancy test between her shaky fingers. I haven’t had any desire to take risks.
But now here he is, standing in front of me, smiling, daring me to throw caution to the wind.
I don’t think twice.
I barely think once before I nod.
“Come here,” he says.
I step closer until we’re standing on the sidewalk under the tall linden tree that’s been growing in front of our house since I can remember.
“What?” I ask in a hushed voice, looking around.
The streetlights cast shadows over him where they shine through the branches.
“What?” I ask again.
His eyes bore into me, and then we’re moving. Somehow I end up with my back against the trunk of the linden tree with Milán right in front of me.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
“Yes.”
I don’t need an escape route. I don’t want one.
He smiles.
“In that case.” His voice is low, and now we’re standing toe to toe, and he leans forward.
“If I were to put my hand right here…” He slides his palm over my cheek.
“And lean forward just a bit,” he murmurs, so close that I can taste his breaths.
His nose bumps against mine. The moment extends.
“Now, if anyone was to, say, try and spy from any of the windows…” His voice goes even quieter.
It’s barely more than a whisper. “…it’d look suspiciously like we’re kissing. ”
My stomach jolts with violent force, and my eyes widen. My breathing seems to be simultaneously nonexistent and too loud.
I swallow hard.
When did air become thick?
“Spying from the window?” I repeat stupidly.
He chuckles, chest brushing against mine.
It burns.
Leaves a mark that throbs.
“You don’t think she is?” he asks.
Who?
It takes my brain a moment to catch up.
“Probably,” I say. When did my voice get this husky? When and why?
“Was this a bad call?” he asks softly. “Am I making things difficult for you?”
Yes.
I shake my head. “No.” I shake my head again. “It’s fine. Creative.”
His proximity has wrapped itself around my throat, and now I sound like I’m choking.
He laughs. His forehead falls against mine.
He’s so close. His eyes are looking straight into mine, his laughing gaze full of mirth and devoid of any of the confusion that is wreaking havoc inside me right now.
“Think we’re good?” he asks, still grinning. “We’ve been kissing for a while.”
I barely manage a nod.
He straightens up and takes a step away. His fingers brush mine, and then my hand is in his. He takes a few more steps away, our hands extended between us, like we’re both finding it difficult to leave.
He waggles his brows at me.
“See you at practice,” he says.
“See you.” I’m surprised I manage to speak at all.
I watch him walk away, hands in the pockets of his jeans, shoulders relaxed, cool and calm. He turns around and walks backward for a bit, grinning at me like we share a secret. I suppose we do.
I take a deep, slow breath.
This is my street. I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s home.
So why do I suddenly feel like I’m seeing everything through brand-new eyes?