“They remind me of us,” I say.Despite knowing each other our entire lives and feeling comfortable enough around Nathan to do or say anything, when we started dating, we went through a bit of an awkward phase.I don’t think either of us accounted for the learning curve that would come with transitioning from friends to lovers.
“I was just thinking that,” Nathan says.“I can practically read Rory’s thoughts right now: Do I touch her?Do I kiss her?Is my breath okay?Will she feel how sweaty my palms are?Can she hear my heart racing?Maybe I should take her home and forget this whole thing.”
I laugh under my breath.“Is he ever going to kiss me?Does he think I’m pretty?What if I’m a bad kisser?I might pass out if my heart races any faster.”
I jump when my window suddenly slides down.Nathan has turned the ignition to open the window, and is scrolling through the music app on his phone.The opening bars of “Thinking Out Loud” by Ed Sheeran start, and he leans forward to turn up the music.
The kids startle and whip toward the truck.Nathan leans across me to wave out the window.“Just me, Rory.”
“Hi, Rory,” I call, because why not make this moment even weirder?“Hi, Rory’s friend.I’m Fiona.”
“Umm…hi, Nathan,” Rory says in a wavering voice.“A-and Fiona.This is Imelda.”
Nathan lifts a hand in greeting.“Hi, Imelda.This is the perfect song to dance to, don’t you think?”
Imelda says something to Rory that I can’t hear.They stare at each other for a moment before he laughs, and she lets out a delighted giggle.Her arms lift to wrap around his neck while his hands settle on her hips, and they begin to sway to the music.My heart could burst from how adorable the scene is.
As the song continues, the pair loosen up, inching closer to each other and occasionally speaking.Nathan cues up another slow song to start when the first ends, and the kids keep dancing.I think of myself at that age, and how a moment like this—dancing with a boy I liked on a beautiful spring night while the moon reflected off the water—was the stuff of fantasies, and would have lived rent-free in my mind forever.Whatever happens between these two, I hope this is a special memory for them.
Nathan turns the music down at the end of the second song.Rory and Imelda slowly release each other, and Rory catches her hand, linking their fingers.He calls his thanks to Nathan, and the two of them wave before heading down the path toward a car I hadn’t noticed before.
“I know they’re young and nothing may come of it, but…we could have just witnessed the beginning of an epic love story,” I say.“They could tell that story to their kids and grandkids someday.”
Nathan lets out a short, soft laugh.He puts the windows up and then drums his fingers against the steering wheel, looking straight ahead.“Do you ever wonder...”
I wait, but he doesn’t finish the question.His expression is somehow both wistful and guarded, so I can guess what he was going to ask.Something along the lines of: Do I ever wonder if we’d still be together if I’d stayed or come back to Honeywell?Do I ever wonder if we’d be married by now?Do I ever wonder if we’d have broken each other’s hearts instead of just me breaking his?
“Yes,” I whisper.
He nods, swallowing audibly.The levity from when we were watching the kids dance has fled, replaced by a tense heaviness.I expect Nathan to start the truck and take me home, but instead we sit in the dark, quiet cab.
After a few minutes, Nathan eases back in his seat with a sigh, letting his hands drop from the wheel into his lap.His relaxed posture encourages my tight muscles to loosen, although for some reason, I can’t bring myself to look at him.I stare out at the water instead, watching the moonlight glisten off the calm surface of the lake.
We used to hang out like this all the time, talking, listening to music, stargazing, making out.One of our first sexual encounters was on a night just like this.I’d straddled Nathan’s lap and had been in the middle of a graceless, fumbling hand job when I sat on the horn and scared us both half to death.We’d laughed ourselves silly, and suddenly it wasn’t so awkward anymore.That experience showed us that sex could be fun.We learned that the fiery urgency we felt for each other could also be playful.
Nathan shifts beside me, draping his arm along the bench seat.I’m not sure if it’s an invitation, but that’s how I choose to interpret it.He watches me with hooded eyes as I inch closer to him before turning and scooting back until my back rests against his side.His arm slides around me, his hand settling on my thigh.
“Will you show me your tattoo?”he whispers.
I hesitate for a moment.I left out a detail when I told him about it earlier.It’s in a place I thought he’d never see, so I didn’t think it would matter.During the night we spent together last December, the hotel room had been dark, and there hadn’t been a whole lot of foreplay since we were both so focused on the main act.
“You don’t have to—” Nathan starts to say, but I cut him off with a shake of my head.I turn on the overhead light and face him, lifting my pajama top to expose the tattoo under my left breast.
Nathan is silent and completely still as he studies the inked markings.His eyebrows are slightly pinched, but I can’t read his expression.Finally, he lifts a hand and brushes the pad of his thumb over the tattoo, his feather-light touch causing goosebumps to erupt across my skin.
“Fireflies,” he says, his thumb lingering over the tiny bugs around the bottom curve of the compass.
I don’t know what to say.Do I tell him it was an impulsive decision I made at the last minute when the tattoo artist was drawing the design?Do I admit I wanted a small piece of our shared history permanently etched on my body, and it made me feel oddly closer to him when there were thousands of kilometres between us, both physically and emotionally?
He lowers my top, the backs of his fingers brushing my stomach and making me shiver.“It’s beautiful, Fi.It suits you.”I half expect him to move away and suggest we head home, but he shifts me so we resume our positions from a few minutes ago.
He leans forward to shut off the overhead light and turn up the music.It’s completely innocent and there’s nothing remotely sexual about it, but the slow drag of his body against mine makes me gasp.I close my eyes tightly, hoping he didn’t hear me.The way he freezes indicates otherwise.He eases back, his warm breath ghosting over the side of my face as his arm tightens around me.He nuzzles his nose into my hair and inhales deeply the way he often used to.
His fingers trail lightly over the back of my hand.I feel like a horny teenager, because even that movement is turning me on.I press closer to him, and he lets out a quiet sigh, dropping his face into the crook of my neck.His hand slips to rest on my stomach, his pinky brushing back and forth on the bit of exposed skin there.He slides his hand under my shirt, pressing his large, warm palm to my stomach before tracing feather-light patterns on my skin with the tips of his fingers.
His breathing grows heavier as I begin to squirm.His face is still buried in my neck, and he inches back just enough to press his lips directly over my racing pulse.I feel lightheaded as his hand slides higher, the backs of his fingers brushing the undersides of my bare breasts.
“Is this okay?”he asks, his low, rough voice in my ear causing heat to surge through me and pool between my legs.
