“It’s not just the scenery making tonight nice.” I bump his arm gently. “Thanks for suggesting that new Italian place. I can’t believe it’s been open for a month and I haven’t made it over there yet. It was great.”
“Yeah?” Auden smiles uncertainly. “I kinda worried you weren’t a fan of your pasta.”
I wince. “Was I being obvious?”
“No! Or maybe a little.” He laughs. “It seemed like you were havingthoughts.”
The opinions fly out of me like a dam bursting. “The gnocchi was overworked. It’s a common problem. Mine used to be that way, too, until I learned a new technique using less liquid. But god, I really wished I knew the chef so I could tell them?—”
Auden claps a hand over his mouth, but his eyes sparkle. “Oh my god, you wouldn’t.”
I open my mouth, then shut it again. “Er. No. I mean… Not unless I thought they’d want to know. Because I would.”
He laughs.
“Sorry,” I say. “Overabundance of opinions about food is kind of an occupational hazard of hanging out with me.”
He laughs again. “Meh. Like when I talked your ear off about retractable crampon claws just now, and during dessert, I was telling you about my seventh graders’ forensics unit? I’m a walking occupational hazard, Ames. Don’t apologize.”
“Yeah, butyourstuff’s interesting. Hearing how you’re training up the next generation of criminal masterminds.” I grin.
Auden blinks and frowns. “Uh. Actually, it’s… kinda the opposite. It’s about scientific method and evidence collection. Crimesolving.”
“No, I-I know. I meant the kids are learning how criminals get caught, so theoretically, they could commit the perfect crime? It was a joke.”
“Ohhh! Right. Now I understand,” he says, but I can see from his face that he doesn’t really.
Which is cute. Obviously.
We stop walking in front of Watchfire. Through the giant front window, it’s clear the dining room’s still busy. There’s a fire roaring in the stone fireplace that dominates the center of the room, and warm white light from the antique fixtures I sourced spills out into the street. Upstairs, the lamp I left burning in my apartment glows.
Usually, I love this place—the restaurant where I’mdirecting things from the middle of the action, the quiet sanctuary above where I can be alone with my thoughts.
Tonight, neither option is appealing.
“So,” I say. “Wanna come up for a bit?”
Auden’s cheeks, already pink with cold, get even pinker in the streetlight. “I do. But maybe not tonight?” he says apologetically. “I’m meeting some friends for a hike in the morning.”
I manage a smile. “Of course. Yeah.”
He looks relieved. “You’re so easy to be with, Ames.”
I’m glad to hear that, because I’ve been trying to be.
I’ve been on my best behavior with Auden the past couple of weeks, trying not to come off as too pushy or opinionated. Making sure I respect Auden’s boundaries regarding taking things slow in terms of our physical relationship. Making sure I don’t talk too much. Making sure I don’t find myself thinking about… people I shouldn’t be thinking about while on a date with someone else. But I don’t know if I’m doing it right because it seems like it should feel more natural over time, but instead?—
When Auden presses his lips to mine, it’s so unexpected I freeze for a second. His lips are cold but soft. They taste like the wine we had at dinner.
He pulls back slightly, and I realize I need to get on board, so I pull him against me and kiss him back, closing my eyes and trying to lose myself in the sensation.
It’sgood. Auden knows what he’s doing—the right amount of pressure, the perfect tilt of his head. When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard, and Auden’s glasses are askew.
“Wow,” he says happily. “That was?—”
I adjust his glasses for him. “Yeah.”
“I should go,” he says, but he doesn’t move.
