“We were roommates!” She took a sip of water then spat it out. “This is someone else’s drink. Ew, ew, ew. Am I going to get herpes? Can you give me something to prevent it?”
“Oh my god, I thought you said your germophobia was getting better.”
“It is! I can hold the subway pole now.”
“I’m very proud of you. Now, what about ketchup bottles?”
“No comment.” Back when they used to have dinner together regularly, before she introduced him to Marigold, he’d noticed that she never put ketchup on her fries and eventually she’d admitted that the communal bottles freaked her out; too many people had touched them. That night, he’d poured ketchup onto her plate as a joke, but then he did it the next time she ordered a burger, and the time after that. Soon, it was automatic—as soon as their food arrived, Jonathan would add the appropriate condiment to Natalie’s plate without a word.
“You need exposure therapy. ASAP.”
“You’re not a psychiatrist.”
“Any port in a storm.”
“That’s not what that means,” Natalie said with a smile.
Jonathan shrugged. “When in Rome.”
“Gotta strike when the iron is hot.”
“It’ll be like killing two birds with one stone.” It was one of their old bits—slipping random clichés into conversation where they didn’t belong. “I’m not letting you leave this wedding without conquering your fear of germy hands. Come here.” He reached out and grabbed her arm.
“Stop it,” Natalie said, laughing.
“Now close your eyes and imagine allllll my germs seeping into your skin.”
“You sound like you’re trying tohypnotizeme. I’m going to have you disbarred.”
“That’s for lawyers.”
“Fine. I’m going to have you dis-doctored.”
“Now take a deep breath in… and a deep breath out…”
“This isn’t exposure therapy. I’m not freaked out by you touching my arm.”
“Right. Hmmm… Let’s see, didn’t you once say that you could never get a facial because you didn’t believe anyone had clean enough hands to touch your face?”
Natalie pulled back. “You wouldn’t.”
“Now, just relax…” Jonathan tightened his hold on her arm and brought his other hand to her cheek.
“Jonathan! Come on,” Natalie giggled, squirming away. He brushed his hand across her cheek, and she went completely still, momentarily stunned by the current of electricity buzzing across her skin. The pleasure was short-lived, swept aside by panic that he’d noticed the effect his touch had on her. “It’s your fault for enabling me all those years,” she said with forced playfulness.
“What choice did I have? You looked so helpless, staring longingly at the ketchup.”
“Helpless. Great.”
“Helpless and adorable. I couldn’t stand to see you in distress. I had such a crush on you back then.”
Natalie’s heart slammed against her sternum, as if pressing itself against her rib cage to hear better. “What?”
“Oh, come on,” Jonathan said, smiling. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t know.”
What the hell was going on? Had she gone through the looking glass? Entered Bizarro World? There was no way she’d just heard… No, it wasn’t possible.
Jonathan had had a crush onher?
