“Yeah, a detective. Mostly investigating largescale gang crimes or murders.”
“Sounds like the stuff movies are made of,” I say and Reece laughs.
“Yeah, a much more exciting life than mine.”
“I don’t think I could stand that much excitement,” I say. “The most excitement I get is when I’ve run out of a shade of yarn a customer needs to finish their project. So far it’s not led to murder and I’m happy with that.”
“Never underestimate small town pettiness,” Reece replies and I laugh, properly this time, and he does too. The tension I felt before eases and we manage to chat for the rest of the journey, Reece swapping with me halfway to share the driving.
I know as soon as we pull up outside the store that it’s not right for me. For the most part because of the neighborhood. The stares we were getting as we drove slowly trying to find the address... the three stores next to the one we’re looking at boarded and shuttered, all adorned with graffiti... I can’t see how there’d be a need for a yarn store.
“It’s not what I was expecting,” I say to Reece as we get out of the car.
“Is it the right address?” he asks, looking around, and I double check the address again. It’s correct.
“I don’t think I even want to look.”
“How about you do it anyway?” Reece suggests. “It’s all experience and you might learn something, even if it’s about what to avoid in the future.” That seems reasonable.
“Alright.” I agree.
“We’ve come all this way and you never know, it might be amazing inside.”
“Yeah, right.” I doubt it very much but I trail after him, disappointment weighing me down.
We meet with the agent who looks in no way apologetic for the store being nothing like it was described. Reece, though, looks interested and asks lots of questions, while I walk around wondering if I’ll ever find a suitable place.
“Lunch?” Reece suggests when we get back into the car, and he drives us to a diner we passed on the way in. When we’re seated and we’ve placed our orders, Reece leans forward and places his elbows on the table.
“So what did you think?”
I give him my opinion, which is fairly short, but basically comes down to... it didn’t matter if it was the most amazing store I’d ever seen, I couldn’t open it in a neighborhood I didn’t feel safe in.
“Yeah, that wasn’t nice, was it?”
Our food arrives and we tuck in.
“Thank you for asking all the right questions,” I say, and he shrugs like it was no big deal. “But sorry for dragging you out on a wasted journey.”
“It’s fine. I don’t like the outcome, but I do like spending time with you.”
I look at him for any hint of mockery, but he seems serious, which makes me feel a little exposed.
“Thanks,” I mutter and turn my attention to finishing my lunch.
Soon we’re back on the road and heading home. I’m behind the wheel again.
“So, how did you find the prom?” Reece asks after a short but surprisingly comfortable silence.
“Well, it wasn’t quite how I imagined my prom would be.”
“You didn’t go to the prom in high school?”
“No,” I reply, but if he didn’t know that, then . . . “Didn’t you go either?”
“No.”
“Oh.” That’s news to me, and I fall silent, assimilating the information.
