Dax groaned—probably not even aware of how loud it was—and he grabbed his laminated sheet, pushing it toward them.
“Ummmm…what?”
I waved at him, and he looked up. ‘Good luck.’ He flipped me off, and I burst into laughter. ‘Want help? I can interpret.’
He shook his head. ‘Nope. They can learn or get out.’
I immediately loved that about him. And I had a feeling we were going to be fast friends. ‘Text you later,’ I said, then escaped before I could be subjected to “Let me talk to your manager.” In the parking lot, I eyed the bus stop, missing my car, but with steady steps and a cool breeze, I was starting to feel a bit more like myself.
And with that feeling, I knew then that it was time to talk to Nash. I hadn’t quite made up my mind yet, but the longer I was away from him, the more I realized he was starting to become my safe space. So why not make that official?
Even if it was only for a little while.
And even if it wasn’t real.
CHAPTER NINE
NASH
It wasn’t a date.
It. Was. Not. A. Date.
Apparently, I needed to remind myself of that because somehow, I was standing in front of the meager contents of my closet, debating which button-down shirt to wear as if I were a high schooler dressing for a first date.
The options were depressing. There was no other word for it. My shirts were either black, gray, or navy blue. I’d known I hated shopping, but had I really been in such a piss-poor mood every single time that I hadn’t even considered brighter colors?
My slacks weren’t much better, which was proof of how rarely I dressed up because who the fuck wore a black shirt with black slacks? It wasn’t a goddamn funeral. It also wasn’t a date, so maybe I should stop obsessing over my outfit. It wasn’t like I even had dress shoes to go with it, regardless of which variation of depressed and-or mourning I chose.
With a deep sigh, I turned toward the stack of jeans and cargo pants. A nice pair of jeans would work, right? Since it wasn’t a date.
Though even if it had been, dressing up would be a farce. The poor guy would only end up horribly disappointed anddisillusioned if he discovered what I wore every day. Hint: slacks and button-down shirts were not on the list.
I selected a white Nike T-shirt and a pair of jeans. After putting them on, I checked myself in the mirror. White? What the fuck was I thinking? If I spilled food on it, I’d look like an idiot in front of my date.
I clenched my teeth. Not a date, dammit. Not. A. Date.
Still, the white shirt had to go. I had a green Queen tour shirt that I’d found at a vintage shop Dayton had dragged me into a few weeks prior. While music wasn’t a particular passion of mine, I did love Queen’s music, and Freddy Mercury had not only been crazy talented but also a queer icon. As a statement, it would send the right signal.
Combined with black sneakers, I looked…okay. Not super hot or sexy, but it would have to do. I wasn’t sure what Forest would wear, and the last thing I wanted was to make him feel underdressed. Better for him to shine than me.
I checked my watch. At least I was right on time, as usual. My years in the Army had instilled me with an innate sense of time, even without a watch. I could usually guess what time it was within a fifteen-minute accuracy. A completely useless skill in civilian life, obviously, but a neat one nonetheless.
When I came down the stairs, Forest was just leaving his room. Like me, he’d opted for casual, and I let out a sigh of relief. He looked much better in his simple baby-blue shirt and tight jeans than I did, but that wasn’t hard when you were blessed with his cuteness. I was many things, but cute wasn’t an adjective often used to describe me.
“You ready?”
One day, I would have the same smooth words and quick-wittedness I had with everyone else with him, but today was not that day. For some reason, my tongue always felt heavy aroundForest, awkward. The words never flowed out as easily as they did with anyone else. It annoyed the fuck out of me.
He nodded. “Where are we going?”
“An Italian place called Donatella’s. They serve the most amazing homemade meatballs you’ve ever had in your life.”
His eyes lit up, and something in my chest cracked wide open. “I love Italian food.”
I mentally filed that away. Forest was always so damn polite that it wasn’t always easy to tell what his favorites were. “Glad to hear that.” I gestured to the front door. “Lead the way.”
He hesitated, looking back at his room. “I’m not sure if I should bring my cane. I don’t…” He bit his lip. “I don’t like it, but I also don’t want to fall.”
