26. A Muscle Memory
A Muscle Memory
Olli
In retrospect, I should’ve known Fuller and Sosa would be in on Brooker’s wingman plan. They were his little protégées and had the same tendencies to party and be menaces.
What I hadn’t expected was Kodi to straight-up say she thought I was hot.
I could tell she was attracted to me, there’d been just enough looks to draw that conclusion.
But to hear her say it … it set my blood on fire.
I was so hot, I considered not riding in the cab with her in case something else happened that would tip me over the edge.
But then there was the softness. Pink rising to her cheeks when she admitted that she’d consider dating me if things changed.
That confession dampened the hunger and made me think long term. The game was a good start but I needed to do … more to open up to her.
The only problem was I didn’t really know how to do that. Did I tell her random facts about myself? Or just respond to everything she said? I couldn’t for the life of me think of how to begin a friendship, let alone how to begin one that turned into more.
“So … did you get enough to eat?” I asked when we were settled in the cab. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow like he was unimpressed with my attempt at conversation.
“Um, yeah,” Kodi said, fiddling with the strap of her bag. I could see the napkin she rolled up the mozz sticks in, sticking out.
“Well.” I chewed at my lip. “I didn’t. I’m sure the guys are enjoying those apps, but I’d like to get an actual meal before bed. So I’ll be getting delivery, if you want something too.”
“No, that’s all right. You already spent money on me at the bar. I can order myself something, if I get hungry later.”
I hummed, disappointed the only obvious avenue for conversation was shot down so quickly. But it was fine, there was no rush for us to get to know each other. Nothing could come of it until she got the other job anyway. Just because I wanted it badly didn’t mean it needed to happen immediately.
“You can just tell me if it’s too personal, but I’m curious about your relationship thing,” Kodi said, eyes still on her bag. The driver hummed and I straightened up.
“Yeah, ask whatever.”
Kodi fiddled with her fingers for a second before turning abruptly to me, eyes sharp. “So the boys are pretty insistent that you need to get laid.”
Upfront, the cab driver snorted.
“But what do you actually want in a relationship? Because as your PA —” This made him gasp. “— I know you don’t have a lot of time to devote to one. So like, are the boys right and you just wanna get laid? Or what?”
Suddenly I wished this was a quiet car ride. But if this was what she wanted to know, then …
“No, that’s never really been … my style. Not to say I haven’t …” I bit my tongue and forced the next few words out, “had a one-night stand. But I’d prefer something with … intent.”
“Intent,” she repeated, humming.
“What about you?” I asked without thinking. Kodi pulled back, brow furrowing. After a second, she shuffled around to look out the window and I figured I’d crossed a line and the conversation was over.
“I don’t actually know,” she said quietly.
“Like, I haven’t beaten your record for relationship length either.
I’ve kinda just slept around with whoever was fun or interesting without any intent beyond, you know, enjoying the sex.
It’s not something I ever actively sought out because I was more focused on my career. ”
“Me, too,” I said, something catching in my throat. Kodi twisted around to look at me, head resting against the seat.
“I guess we have more in common than I thought,” she said softly. Kodi looked at me for a beat longer before grabbing something from her bag and holding it out to me. “Are mozzarella sticks your favorite, too? Because they’re my go-to appetizer and have been for, like, ever.”
“Lucky guess,” I said, shrugging it off.
Like Kodi said, it’s been her favorite since forever.
Anytime I went out to eat with her family, she got them.
And on the rare few days they were served at the cafeteria, she went nuts.
In fact, her only complaint after we went and saw the Dastards as kids was —
“You know, the worst thing about being a soccer fan is that mozzarella sticks aren’t a stadium food,” she said before taking another stick from her purse. “What’re the chances you could pull some strings and make that happen?”
“I guess I could ask around for you.”
“If you do, I’ll get you a world’s best boss mug,” she promised, handing me another cheese stick, even though I hadn’t finished the first one. But since turning her down in any way was impossible, I shoved the other sick in my mouth to take her offer.
“Seriously?” I asked around a mouthful of cheese.
“Mm-hmm, even if I have to design it myself.”
“Can you design things like that, too?”
“Well, I guess saying I can ‘design’ it is a little cavalier. I’m not a professional designer, but I can make do.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, trying to sound like I understood what she meant.
“But I’d add a little stick on all the Bs,” she said with a little giggle and the cabbie snorted.
“What?”
“'Cause Bs look like a butt and you’ve always got a stick up your ass,” she explained, doubling over in laughter.
“Har, har,” I said. “You give me that mug and I’ll hand it right over to Hansen.”
Kodi sat straight up with a gasp. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Wanna test me?”
Kodi sat back and narrowed her eyes at me. “No, I guess not. But not because I think you’d really do that.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, you act like a grump, but you’re actually really nice.”
“You think so?” I asked, my heart aching.
“Uh-huh. Plus printing one mug is too expensive. Not worth it for the bit.” She sighed before tilting her body to rest her head on my shoulder. Her weight was warm, grounding, and I suddenly hoped the cab ride would last a little longer.
“Here ya are, folks,” the cab driver said as he stopped in front of the hotel, crushing my dreams.
“Let’s go,” Kodi grumbled, pushing me towards my door. I mumbled but got out of the car, holding out my hand for her as she crawled over the seat to get out on my side. As her hand settled in mine, I got that same warmth again and was compelled to hold on to it.
So I did.
I wrapped my fingers around her palm and held her hand.
It was stupid that this small act warmed my heart so much.
But I liked the way it felt, liked how she didn’t pull away, but leaned into it as she hopped out of the car.
And I especially liked how her fingers wrapped around my hand and stayed there as we went into the lobby, swinging our arms around like kids skipping down the road.
It might be that she was still a little tipsy or tired from a long day of travel, but I thought of it as a muscle memory.
She might not remember me, but the memories were still there.
Holding my hand made her think of moments back when she was a kid, strolling down the street with a friend on their way back home from the bus stop.
And I held on to that hope, even as her hand slipped from mine to hit the elevator button.