“I’m not sure,” David matched my tone, all hushed and curious.
I waited for more. When nothing came, and his attention was redirected once more to my family, I felt my heart rate pick up. If he wouldn’t say more about it tonight, then it was up to me. I’d have to bridge our final gap.
“David, I think we should…” My throat constricted as the words struggled to push past my chest. “What I mean is… I like this feeling of… us.”
He took a beat before confessing, “So do I.”
Those three words calmed the riptide. My head resurfaced above the water.
“I’ve been thinking about how we’ve known each other for such a long time and maybe… maybe the universe kept pulling us together so we could get to this moment,” he finished.
I laughed a little because it was strange to hear him say something like that. “You don’t really believe in that. In the universe’s intervention?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, and yes.”
“You can’t have both.”
“But that’s what we feel like,” he said without hesitation. “And I’ve always wanted to believe in the universe. Or something. Anything. But that always felt impossible until you started showing up everywhere. And so, I started looking for you. We started doing this, and it started feeling like the only thing that made sense. Being with you is the only thing I can guarantee I will seek out.”
“I don’t know what to do next,” I confessed. “Do you?”
His forehead wrinkled. “Do we have to know?”
My laugh was dry. “That would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t see the point.”
“Of understanding your emotions? Knowing how to interpret them so you can make the best decision for yourself? There’s no point in that?”
David shook his head. “We don’t need to come up with a five-year plan to justify a feeling, Yara. Have you ever just leapt?”
“Plenty of times. But with a parachute.”
“Some of us weren’t fortunate enough to grab one before we were pushed out.”
“I don’t mind sharing.”
He chuckled. I didn’t know how I ever sat next to him while he did that and didn’t feel some type of want. The ache in my chest spread through my veins, pleading with me to either satisfy my urge or figure out another way to sedate it.
“I have a dare,” David said.
I took a deep breath, curious but slightly disappointed in the potential change in topic. “What have you got for me this time?”
“There’s this team dinner,” he said, dipping his gaze down to his hands for a second. “Very important and daunting. I’m not great with… charm. You are. And you make me less afraid.”
The flattery bypassed my head and went straight to my heart.
“Be mine for the night,” he said. “I dare you.”
It’s not a request for a date or a clear step to a relationship. But somehow it was even more promising. More hopeful. More than us.
We passedour old middle school on the way back home. The park across the street had been updated: the swing set, see-saws, replaced with a mini rock climb, and a metal slide for a plastic one. The aching nostalgia didn’t haunt just me.
David pulled into the parking lot and wordlessly unbuckled his seatbelt. When I gave him a questioning look, he asked, “Remember when you cheated in that monkey bar race?”
I scoffed and unbuckled my seatbelt. “I did not. Why are you lying about a monkey bar race?”
“Why would you cheat?”
