He did not reply, just bent down over the strings, his hair falling to cover his face. I pulled up a crate opposite him—quietly, mindful of Clark above—pressing my feet against his. “So,” he said, strumming. “A lot people have been trying to reach you, huh?”
Of course he’d seen. My phone had been blowing up. “Yeah. Just because it had been so long. Nothing important.”
He nodded, then played a little more. Usually I loved to listen to him, but right then I felt impatient for him to kiss me. These were Daytime Us issues, necessary and practical. I wanted to be fully in nighttime now.
And the truth was I was a half hour past our usual time. Upon waking, I’d started looking at my phone, reading Colin’s messages over. It wasn’t missing him as much as feeling a sick fascination, seeing these particular tables so completely turned.
Now Ben did put his guitar on his other side, then turned to me. “Look. I’ve been thinking about the whole passionate-embrace-by-the-bus-pan idea.”
My shoulders, which I’d not realized were tensed, eased away from my ears. Like I was back in a country I knew, where I could speak the language. “So what were you picturing?”
“Well,” he said. “I—”
“Personally,” I continued, not exactly sure why I was cutting him off even as I did so, “I kind of like the idea of us suddenly just making out, while everyone else bustles around us with breakfast foods.”
“Maybe,” he said, in a markedly distant tone. I couldn’t miss it. I pressed on anyway.
“The best, though, would be more of a sweeping-me-off-my-feet kind of move. Preferably with some dishes being broken in the process. For optimum drama. Although I do worry about the mechanics.”
I’d given him the perfect opening. All he had to do was volley back. But he didn’t say anything.
“I mean, if you drop me, the whole thing just gets messy.”I was now very aware that I’d been the only one talking for a while. But somehow I couldn’t stop. “I mean, I’m good. But even I can’t pull off sexy with bacon stuck in my hair.”
Finally—mercifully, even to my own ears—I now shut up. Still the joke hung there, all the more noticeable because neither of us laughed.
“I’m being serious,” he said. Now he did lean in, taking my hand, folding his fingers around it. “I want—”
Chirp.
I froze. His hand, while still over mine, loosened. “Is that—did you?”
Chirp.
Fumbling, I reached around to my back pocket—the movement a muscle memory, as intuitive as taking a step to move forward—and pulled out my phone. I’d brought it without even realizing. Now the screen was lit up with a notification.New summer styles in! Use code HEATISON.
Just a stupid message. Meaning nothing. And yet, it was here, literally announcing itself, in this place that before had been solely ours. Where the only connection, other than Clark’s occasional half-awake complaints, was between us.
We sat there for a second after, there in the quiet that followed. He’d never finished his thought. I’d said too much. Just as I thought this, my phone, back in my pocket where I’d stuffed it after quickly setting it to silent, received another notification. I could feel it even more once Ben slowly removed his hand from mine. Pulsing like another heartbeat, alive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Another morning, another bus from the Tides. Although now things were a little different.
“Next group? Come on in,” Cardoon said as he held the door for an older couple in matching windbreakers. To those remaining in line he added, “Thanks for your patience, everyone! You will all be seated shortly.”
The kitchen door banged and Kasey came hustling in, carrying a bucket of bright pink flowers. Then she stopped, abruptly, by the register. “Wait. Why is it so calm in here?”
Clark dropped a plate in the window. “Lana’s boyfriend’s alert system was already working. Now it’s getting fine-tuned.”
I looked at Lana, who was passing by with a coffeepot. “Fine-tuned?”
“EBS,” she said.
“What?”
“Early Bird Special,” she explained. “Bus comes at six forty-five, before we even turn on the sign.”
“You guys have acronyms now?” I asked.
