The words are quiet, but they land.Because I am.But I can’t help it.I don’t really know what this dinner means yet.Old friends catching up?An old flame reignited?Or something far less defined?
I reach for my heels, slipping them on before crossing back to the mirror, adjusting a strand of hair that doesn’t actually need adjusting.It’s just dinner.The thought lands with a faint, almost amused edge.There’s never anything that’s “just” with Hayden.
I pick up my phone, glancing at the screen without really expecting anything.There’s no message.I didn’t give him my number, but something tells me if he wanted it, he’d already have it.Not that I expected a change of plans.He’ll show up exactly when he said he would.That hasn’t changed.
I set the phone back down, reaching for a small clutch and sliding in what I need before pausing again, my hand resting lightly against the edge of the dresser.Somehow this feels like something.Not the same.Not even close.But not nothing, either.I smooth my hand down the front of my dress, even though there’s nothing to fix.
The sound of the door buzzer cuts cleanly through the thought.I glance at my phone.6:59.Right on time.I exhale once, steady and controlled, before moving toward the control panel, my finger settling on the button for just a second longer than necessary.Then I press it down.
Chapter Eight
Hayden
Inside Out
Eve 6
A voice, her voice, squawks through the speaker as the door buzzes and unlocks.“Come on up.I’m in 2B.”I pull the door open and take the stairs to the second floor, finding 2B easily enough.I knock, and her door opens almost immediately.She knew I’d be on time.
Vanessa stands in the doorway, the soft light from inside her apartment catching along the edge of her hair, the deeper red pulling warmer than it had under the museum lighting.The dress, navy, falls cleanly against her frame, understated in a way that doesn’t try to draw attention but holds it anyway.
For a second, I just look at her.Not because I don’t know what to say.Because I want to be precise when I do.“You didn’t change your taste in color.”
Her mouth curves, just slightly.“And you didn’t change your need to start with an observation instead of a compliment.”
“I said what I meant.”
“I know.”Her gaze holds mine for a beat longer than necessary.“You always did.”
The silence that follows isn’t awkward.It’s familiar in a way that doesn’t belong to the last decade.“You ready?”I shift the moment forward before it lingers too long.
She reaches for a light jacket draped over the back of a chair just inside the entryway, slipping it on with an ease that feels practiced, like she’s already decided how this night is going to go.
She glances up at me.“Where are we going?”
“Boka.Seven-thirty reservation.”
Her brows lift slightly as she steps out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind her.“Michelin star on a Thursday night?”A glance in my direction, something just shy of teasing in it.“Impressive.”
“It wasn’t difficult.”
“Of course it wasn’t.”She chuffs as she descends the stairs, me in her wake, the space between us narrowing naturally, not quite touching, but close enough to register.
“It’s a nice night,” I say as we step out onto the sidewalk a moment later.“It’s only a few blocks to the restaurant if you want to walk.Or I can drive.”My gaze drops briefly to her heels, then back up to her eyes.
“I can handle a few blocks, Hayden.”
“I didn’t want to assume.”We fall into step without needing to coordinate it.I shift slightly as we move, placing myself along the outside edge of the sidewalk without thinking about it.
“You still do that.”
I glance over at her.“Do what?”
She nods subtly toward the street.“Positioning.”
“It makes sense.”
“For who?”
