3. Nolani #4
“Good thing I ain’t claiming ownership. I’m claiming nickname rights until further notice.”
“You can’t just assign yourself rights.”
“Appeals process open Monday through Friday.”
I laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’ve been accused.”
We headed back toward the festival together.
His stride shortened without announcement to match mine. When a family crossed in front of us, his free hand hovered near the small of my back but never touched. Close enough for my body to notice. Controlled enough that I noticed that too.
“You from Willow Run?” he asked.
“No. Self Ridge. My Nana lives here.”
“Self Ridge?”
I glanced at him. “What was that tone?”
“What tone?”
“That one.”
“I ain’t said nothing.”
“Your face did.”
He laughed. “I’m from Self Springs.”
“Oh, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“The confidence.”
“You saying Self Springs produces excellence?”
“I’m saying y’all tend to believe that.”
“Nah, we got supporting data.”
I looked up at him. “Supporting data?”
“I got degrees, Hershey. I can substantiate foolishness when necessary.”
That made me laugh again.
“You really are a coach.”
“Unfortunately documented.”
“And yet you were lost.”
“So were you.”
“I followed a bad sign.”
“And I was looking for the marina.”
“The marina is beside the festival.”
“Exactly. Irresponsible signage victimized both of us.”
“You just said you had supporting data.”
“For Self Springs excellence. Not navigational competence.”
At least he was consistent in his nonsense.
“You’re on vacation?” I asked.
“Trying to be. I’ve been out here since yesterday.”
“Trying?”
“My mama sent me away before I worked myself into becoming unpleasant.”
“Were you unpleasant?”
“Not yet. Efficient with an attitude.”
A laugh slipped out. “That sounds like unpleasant with credentials.”
He looked at me, clearly pleased. “See? Now you talking my language.”
The humor stayed, but something tired lived beneath the answer. He didn’t explain it, and I didn’t ask him to. I understood the instinct to leave certain things where they fell.
“I’m Landon.”
“Nolani.”
He repeated it once, slower than necessary without making it theatrical. “Nolani.” I became too aware of how closely we were walking. “Pretty name.”
“Thank you.”
He looked at me again. “Hershey still fits, though.”
I shook my head. “You were doing so well.”
“I got comfortable.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
“You smiling.”
“I was smiling before.”
“Yeah, but I’m taking credit for this one.”
“Based on what?”
“Evidence.”
“You really do have a methodology for everything.”
“I respect evidence-based practice.”
That one made me laugh hard enough to look away.
When I looked back, he was watching me with the satisfaction of a man who had successfully made his point.
My fingers started toward the pendant.
Stopped.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Don’t.”
“I ain’t say nothing.”
“You were about to.”
“See? Now you studying my patterns.”
“Occupational hazard.”
“Yours or mine?”
“Apparently both.”
His laugh followed us toward the parking lot.
By the time we reached my car, the remaining jug had left a red line across my fingers. Landon stopped beside the passenger side and handed Nana’s tea back to me, his knuckles brushing mine around the handle.
“Let me buy you another peach tea.”
“You’re the one wearing mine.”
“Then let me replace yours and find something less wearable for myself.”
“I need to get these gallons back to Nana before her card game starts.”
“Can’t keep Nana waiting.”
“No, you really can’t.”
He glanced toward the festival, then back at me. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Willow Run isn’t that big.”
“That sounds almost promising.”
“It was geography.”
He nodded slowly. “I coach football. I’m trained to find an opening. I’m counting that as one.”
“That is not what I said.”
“I know what you said.”
“Then why are you rewriting it?”
“Optimism.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Very.”
I laughed and reached for the driver’s door. “Enjoy the festival, Coach.”
“Enjoy your tea, Hershey.”
I looked over my shoulder and found him still watching me, his interest easy to recognize because he made no effort to disguise it.
What I didn’t find was pressure attached to it.
He’d flirted, teased, noticed too much, and somehow never made me feel like any of those things required something back.
Heat moved beneath my skin again.
The July sun had officially lost the right to take credit.
“Don’t make me spill the gallon.”
Landon raised both hands and stepped backward. “I done learned my lesson. Drive safe, Nolani.”
The sound of my actual name after all those Hersheys did something inconvenient to my pulse.
“You too.”
“I’m walking.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
I climbed into the car before he found another reason to make me laugh, closed the door, and sat behind the wheel while my heartbeat attempted to remember the rhythm it had possessed before Landon stepped into that service lane.
Through the windshield, I watched him disappear into the festival crowd wearing my peach tea and carrying what remained of his Hershey bar with almonds.
My fingers found the pendant at my throat.
This time, I knew exactly why.