Chapter 13 #3
She forced the thought away, locking it down before it showed on her face. Christine was watching her, close, waiting.
Christine tilted her head slightly, a slow, lazy grin curving at her lips. “You listening, Doc? Or just watching?”
Oakland’s cheeks flushed. “Can’t help it. You’re very… expressive.”
“What’s the last thing I said?”
Oakland blinked. Shit.
Christine laughed softly, the sound curling at the edges. “You’re busted.”
She shifted forward, closer than before, her knee brushing against Oakland’s under the table. Neither of them moved away.
“This is the part where you pretend you were paying attention,” Christine murmured, voice dipping just enough to make Oakland’s cheeks heat.
Oakland exhaled a shaky breath, forcing her brain to work. “You were talking about… hops.”
Christine hummed, unconvinced. “Mm. Lucky guess.”
Their hands were suddenly touching. When did that happen?
Christine’s eyes dropped back to her lips for a second, so fast Oakland could have imagined it. But she didn’t.
She leaned in, just a fraction. Oakland mirrored her without thinking, her heart hammering so hard she was sure Christine could hear it.
Christine’s breath was warm, her lips barely parted, her expression unreadable, but inviting.
The whole world narrowed to this. The hum of the brewery faded, the warmth of Christine’s hand against hers, the way they were so close she could count the freckles on her nose.
And then, Bzzzt.
Oakland fumbled with her phone, silencing the alarm with a sharp thumb swipe. Shit. She was late.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket and stood quickly, almost knocking the stool over. Christine was still watching her, head tilted slightly. That same expectant, teasing grin tugged at her lips. Like she knew Oakland was flustered and was thoroughly enjoying it.
Oakland hesitated, then pushed forward before she could second-guess herself. “Can I see you again?”
Christine’s smirk widened. She held her phone out, ready for the tap. “Let’s swap contacts.”
Oakland exhaled, relieved, and pressed her phone against Christine’s. A soft chime confirmed the exchange. Easy. Clean. No fumbling, no second-guessing. Their screens flashed—contact saved.
Then Christine’s expression shifted, the easy confidence in her eyes giving way to something quieter, more curious.
Oakland frowned. “What?”
Christine squinted at her phone. It was Oakland’s contact image that caught her attention.
“Oh,” Christine said, tapping the screen. “I think I know him.”
Oakland’s stomach dropped. She forgot that the photo was even associated with her number.
The photo was a snapshot of her and Brother York, Derek, outside the Salt Lake temple, bathed in the warm haze of golden hour.
The temple’s white stone gleamed behind them, almost too perfect, like something out of a postcard.
Derek was mid-grin, wide, goofy, and borderline ridiculous, while Oakland stood beside him, caught mid-eye-roll, laughter barely hidden behind pressed lips.
A picture of home. Of history. Of something she couldn’t let go of yet.
But Christine wouldn’t know that.
All she saw was Oakland and some guy in front of that building.
Oakland’s throat went tight. She swallowed. “That’s my friend, Derek.” Another pause. “And… the Mormon temple.”
Christine didn’t react right away. Her thumb hovered over the screen, her expression shifting—eyebrows knitting slightly, lips pressing together like she was turning something over in her head. Processing. Like puzzle pieces were sliding into place, one by one.
“The Mormon temple.” She finally met Oakland’s gaze, her eyes searching, unreadable. “So… why?”
Oakland’s fingers curled tightly around the phone. “It’s…” She steadied herself. She didn’t anticipate this conversation happening today. “It’s complicated.”
Christine studied her, then nodded like that made sense. “Yeah.”
The weight of the moment settled between them, heavier than before.
But Christine didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a joke or shift the mood like Oakland half-expected her to. She just sat with it, letting Oakland decide if she wanted to say more.
Oakland hesitated, then swallowed hard. “I still want to see you again.” The words felt different now. More real.
Christine didn’t hesitate. “Well, you know how to find me.”
Oakland nodded, fingers tightening around her phone. She turned to leave, already feeling the moment's weight pressing against her ribs.
Then, as she reached the door, Christine’s voice stopped her.
“Hey, Doc.”
Oakland glanced back.
Christine tilted her head slightly, a small, knowing smile playing at the edges of her lips. “I liked almost kissing you.”
Oakland’s breath caught.
Christine casually popped a chip into her mouth like she didn’t just throw a grenade into Oakland’s brain. “Just saying. In case you were wondering.”
Oakland barely managed to stop herself from groaning or standing there like an idiot, completely unable to function.
Instead, she shook her head, pushed open the door, and stepped out—her pulse still hammering in her throat.
?