The words leave my mouth easily, but they don’t land that way.
Nathan doesn’t answer.
At first, I think he didn’t hear me, but then I notice the shift, subtle, almost invisible. His shoulders don’t tense; his expression doesn’t harden… he just goes rigid like something inside him stopped moving.
His eyes drift past me, unfocused, resting somewhere over my shoulder that isn’t really part of the restaurant anymore.
I wait for him to say something.
He doesn’t.
The silence stretches long enough that I suddenly feel like I’ve missed a step in a dance I didn’t know we were dancing.
“Do you…want to get dessert?” I ask, softer now, giving him an exit instead of a question.
He blinks once, like he’s returning from somewhere farther away than across a table.
A beat passes.
Then another.
“No,” he says finally. “I’m good.”
Right then, his phone buzzes against the tabletop.
His gaze drops instantly.
I catch the name before he turns the screen over.
Taylor Pierce.
And that’s it, it’s almost like whatever excitement we both had died along with that text alert going off. The walk back is too quiet. The warmth we shared is completely replaced by this frigid awareness between us, as if we both know the elephant exists but neither of us wants to talk about it.
He gives glimpses of greatness only to snatch them back like he’s been broken and can’t find the pieces to glue himself together.
By the time we get to my door, my heart’s in my throat. Is he going to kiss me again? Or am I about to get the world’s most awkward wave?
He just…stands there.
So, in full awkward mode, I panic. I lean in for a hug.
He hugs me back, but it feels…detached like he’s hugging his aunt. Or worse, his dentist. Oh, God.
We say bye, and the door clicks shut, and I exhale the breath I’ve apparently been holding since the elevator. My back slides down the door until I’m sitting on the floor, mentally replaying every awkward second of that goodbye.
Literally every second.
Why did I smile like that?
Why did my hands suddenly forget what to do with themselves?
I push myself up, flick on the light. “Dr. Doom?” I call, already reaching to unclip my earrings.
Silence.
I pause. “Doomy? I’m home.”
Still nothing.
