“Can we get dinner together? Maybe somewhere that allows us a bit of privacy?” Small-town gossip might be fun to listen to, but I’m not in the mood to be the one being gossiped about, especially when I’m still working out the details myself.
“I don’t think there’s anywhere in town that would give us that level of privacy. What about having something here? I could get takeout, and we could eat upstairs.”
I shake my head. “Too close to a bed.” My face flushes at my words. The implication of that is clear. And I desperately want to get Nix into bed, but not tonight. At least not beyond the sleeping together we’ve been doing. For a variety of reasons.
I want to do a little more research before I’m ready for something like that.
“Oh. It’s a weeknight. I bet we could grab a table at Reindeer Roadhouse. Maybe if we go late, they won’t be too busy. Maybe right after I close?” It’s an early night for the shop, so we should be able to make it work.
“It’s a date.”
I have a date. With Nix.
Fuck.
NIX
“So, you…” I’m not really sure how to start this conversation. I spent the last few hours of the day trying to figure out what I wanted to say. I came up with absolutely nothing.
Zip. Zero. Nada.
Dive right in? Ease into it after we each have a drink in our system?
“You can ask me anything you want. I’ll do my best to answer you. If I don’t know, then I’ll say that.”
Well, that’s a refreshing change from my past relationships. Not that there’s been a lot. Especially lately. Despite all the recent couples in town, my prospects have been…limited.
“I…you…we kissed?”
“Is that a question? Because if it is, then either you have a head injury or I’m a terrible kisser.”
“Definitely not that.” I blurt it out before thinking. My whole body heats. I can only pray my face isn’t as red as it feels. “It’s just, I thought you were straight.” There. I said it. The elephant that’s been stomping around the bookstore for the last few hours is out in plain sight.
“Right.” He ducks his head.
I can’t help but feel for the guy. I reach across the table and take his hand. Maybe I shouldn’t do that, but I’d do the same for any of my friends.
“I, um, well, until this past week I thought so, too.” He takes a couple of deep breaths. Both are a little too fast.
“Hey.” I squeeze his hand. “Take as long as you need. I’m not here to judge you.”
It takes a few minutes, but Chase’s breaths start to slow enough that I’m not worried he’s going to pass out. That’s a good start.
It’s that moment when the waiter comes over to take our drink order. As much as it might be interrupting, I’m thankful for the distraction. I take my hand back, tucking it under my thigh so I won’t fidget.
I order my usual drink, a Vermont pale ale that’s popular in the area. Chase seems a little more unsure, but he tries one of the specials. I don’t know if he means it to be a signal, since it’s one of the special Pride drinks, but it does sound delicious. Maybe he’ll let me try it.
“Before we jump back into the discussion, why don’t you pick out something to eat?”
“What’s good here?”
I’ve done Chase a real disservice by not taking him out more to show him the appeal of Sleighbell Springs. “Everything, but in general, I recommend either the chicken or the tofu steak. I usually get one of those two.” I’ve probably had everything on the menu at least once. In part because cooking isn’t really my thing. Plus, this is only a short walk from the shop, which makes it tempting after a long day of work.
“Okay.” He folds the menu. “I’ll trust you.”
That’s a big responsibility. Suddenly I’m second-guessing a meal I’ve had dozens of times. When our waiter returns, I order the other meal I recommended. If he hates his, then we can switch or something.
As soon as we’re alone, the tension-filled silence settles between us again.
