I shrug, looking down at the table, turning my cup a fraction to the left. “I don’t know. Feels more like I’ve just been compensating.” The word sits there between us. Flat. Practical. Saferthan anything else. “Like I’ve spent most of my life trying to keep up and not realizing I was doing it differently.”
I pick at the edge of the chopstick wrapper, not really seeing it, while she waits. “I mean, yeah, I notice things. But that’s because I have to. Otherwise I miss stuff. Or I get it wrong.”
I glance up at her, half expecting her to agree. But she doesn’t. She just tilts her head slightly. “Or maybe you notice things because you’re good at it.”
“See, that sounds nicer.”
“It’s also true.”
“Still feels like I’ve been playing catch-up,” I admit, quieter now. I’m not dismissing her, exactly. I’m letting this all soak in.
There’s a pause before she leans forward. “Maybe you have.”
I look up at that.
“But that doesn’t cancel out what you can do now.”
There’s a moment here where I have no words. I simply let what she’s said be. I don’t need to argue it, nor do I need to agree with it.
“Magic,” I say again, like I’m testing the shape of it.
Her mouth curves. “We’ll work on that part. Okay?”
Steam curls up between us from the bowls sitting on the tiny table, carrying the rich scent of broth, garlic, and sesame. Vivian reaches for a dumpling with her chopsticks, dipping it into chili oil before taking a bite, while I twist noodles around mine with significantly less coordination than she has. Dishes clink softly somewhere behind the counter, the restaurant crowded enough to feel alive without either of us needing to fill the silence ourselves.
She studies me, like she’s checking something over in her head.
“Hey,” she says gently. “I know I already apologized for it, but that first time…when I kissed you.”
I pause mid-chew. I was not expecting that.
She exhales, steady but a little more careful now. “Knowing what you just told me—about how things can feel, and space,and all of that—I’m really sorry if that was…too much. Me just pushing into your personal space like that. I didn’t think about it at the time.”
I tilt my head slightly, watching her. It’s not the apology that catches me. It’s how she got there.
“I—” I start, then shake my head once. “I mean, itwasunexpected.”
Her mouth tightens a fraction, like she’s bracing.
“But,” I add, before she can run too far with that, “it worked out. I like kissing you.”
Well, that came out more straightforward than I planned.
Her eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering in before morphing into something else entirely.
“Oh,” she says, a tiny laugh slipping out. “Good to know.”
I clear my throat, reaching for my tea even though I don’t need it. “Just…for the record.”
“Noted,” she says, a hint of a smile pulling at her mouth.
I shake my head lightly, nudging us forward so we don’t stay here. Because if we do, I’m pretty sure I’m going to sit in it too long, and then I won’t know what to do with it. This is already more than I planned for. More than I mapped out.
Which, according to Dr. Hale, is kind of the point.
I shift in my seat, playing with the edge of my placemat and attempting to be cool, like I’ve got everything handled. Like this isn’t starting to feel a little like stepping out onto something without knowing if it holds. Like ice, funnily enough.
This is dinner. It’s a date. People do dinner and dates all the time.
