He nods, like he understands. He doesn’t tell me that I will be able to settle down somewhere and I’m glad for it. He knows that we sometimes have to chase our questions around the world, hop from lab to lab, funding to funding. Instead, he flags down a waitress, who has a pierced septum and streak of blue hair, and orders a hot cocoa.
She nods curtly. “Do you want marshmallows?”
Lewis tilts his head to me. “She does.”
As the waitress turns away, I realize that the cyclone of feelings the grant rejection triggered has calmed down into a more moderate storm. Still blowing strong, but the hurt, dejection, and anger are much more manageable, all thanks to Lewis. I don’t know how he guessed it, but having him listen to me while feeding me sugar is everything I need right now.
“Wanting stability is not silly,” Lewis tells me when we’re alone again.
“What about you?” I ask him. “How do you handle all of this?”
“I’m not sure it’s the same for me. I haven’t moved as much as you have. But yeah.” Now it’s his turn to glance away, and he fumbles with his crumpled-up paper bag. “Some job security would be nice. And, you know, the clock is ticking for me in Germany.”
I nod. Germany has the wild system of only allowing fixed-term contracts for a limited period of time, and if you don’t land anything permanent by the end of that, you’re out of German academia for good. It’s the reason I never thought about moving back.
A line carves itself into his forehead. “I’m not in as much of a hurry because I have more than a year left on my currentcontract but, you know, there’s a small part of me that also wants to rub it into my father’s face. To have proof once and for all that I excel at something he had no hand in. That I’m good at what I love. I know my logic is totally flawed, because you’ve seen for yourself how little my father thinks of academia. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for him. But instead of accepting that, I keep hoping that the next milestone will be the one that finally convinces him.” His eyes find mine as his mouth cuts into a smile. “So, now who’s being silly?”
The waitress comes back and sets a mug on the counter in front of us. “Thanks,” Lewis says and slides it over to me. Rainbow-colored marshmallows bob in the dark liquid, and I take a sip, savoring the rich and creamy taste.
“I was thinking…” Lewis pivots on his chair, knees knocking into mine, until he stops himself with his foot hooked onto the metal bar of my chair. The cotton of his chinos rubs against my leg, the part that’s covered by the fabric of my dress and a sliver of bare skin below my knee. Warmth spills through me. “I’m going to drive out to my friend’s cabin upstate tomorrow. The one I mentioned at Vivienne and Jacob’s party. You could come?”
I lower the mug onto the countertop. “I… What?”
“What do you think about getting away from here for a little bit? Get out of the city, get some distance to reset.”
“You want to spend the weekend with me?”
“Yeah.” He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s the best idea, because this—we—are already such a mess. But I don’t think you should be alone right now.”
I don’t need to consider his suggestion to know it isn’t the best idea. This morning, I was counting down the hours to time away from this man, so I could talk some sense into myself. After mauling him with that kiss, it might be too late for that now, but if one thing’s obvious, it is that I shouldn’t spendmoretime with him.
“Don’t worry about me,” I tell him, forcing cheer into my voice. “That’s not part of your fake-boyfriend-ly duties. And also not something you owe me, to make up for four years ago.” Something crosses his face then, almost imperceptibly, but he narrows his eyes and tightens his mouth. “I know it probably doesn’t look that way right now, but I’ll be okay. You can enjoy your weekend upstate alone, like you’d planned to.”
“That’s the thing, though,” he says, reaching down. With a flick of his wrist, I’m turned around on my stool, legs bracketed by his, his arm on the cushion of my seat. The heel of his hand presses into the underside of my thigh, and I burn with the awareness of how close he is to where I’m aching for him.
He leans in until our faces are separated by what’s not even a hand width of distance. His voice is all but a rumble in his throat when he continues, “It turns out, I like spending time with you.”
My pulse speeds up, and when I swallow thickly, his eyes flit down, like he can’t help himself. If I didn’t know better—if Lewis hadn’t rejected me earlier—I’d say he’s flirting with me.
“And I know I’d rather have you hike in the forest with me than being all miserable here.” He tilts his head. “So, what do you say?”
If I was smarter, I’d probably think about my answer for longer. I’d remember how his rejection earlier made it clear that we want different things. But even if he had kissed me back, looking for any sort of relationship with a colleague is a bad idea, let alone the one who betrayed my trust colossally.
But in Karo’s absence, I need a friend. And with how expertly Lewis holds my hands through the ups and downs of my anxiety, I think, if nothing else, he can be that.
A friend.
“I’ll come with you,” I finally say, my heart beating in my throat. I’m not sure if I believe myself, when I add, “It can’t hurt.”
Chapter Seventeen
Is this pace okay for you? Or should we go slower?” Lewis asks as he walks ahead of me, a few minutes into our hike.
Despite yesterday’s failed kiss and how much I try to convince my brain that he’s just a friend, his question triggers images of other pacing-related activities he could be doing with me, because that’s where my mind has been all morning: in the gutter. I haven’t been paying attention to our speed or the scenery or anything other than him. How his thighs fill out his black hiking shorts. How the muscles in his calves move under his suntanned skin.
The legs stop moving. “Frances?”
“Huh?”
