What was happening in my chest right now was new.
“I’m bad at this,” I told him. “I want to be honest about that up front because dishonesty by omission has a higher long-term cost than honesty up front. I don’t know how to do coffee with one person. I know how to do coffee with the art guys, and I know how to do hockey with my team. I know how to do early morning at a gym with my brother. I do not know how to do this.” I gestured between us with the hand that wasn’t on Sable’s head. “And I want to do this. So, I’m telling you the data, so we don’t waste time.”
Dane sipped his coffee then set his cup down.
“Chip.”
“Yes.”
“You’re not bad at this.”
“I don’t know how to assess that without baseline data.”
“Trust me.”
“I’m working on that.”
He laughed, and it was quieter than the laugh from earlier, and I liked it more. The corner of his mouth stayed up after the laugh. He looked at me for a long second. Sable pressed her headharder into my hand. It was her way of telling me my pulse was up, and I let it be up.
“Okay,” he said. “So, we’re doing this.”
“We’re doing this.”
“You want to come over for dinner on Thursday? My neighbor’s making brisket. He’s a rabbi. My mom might be there.”
I processed all the information in those sentences, then pulled out my phone. I checked the schedule. Thursday was free, aside from my commitment to a video call with Matt and a contractor to go over a quote at 6:30.
“Six-thirty I have a call. After that, I’m free.”
“Seven-thirty’s fine. I’ll text you the address.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
We sat with it for a minute. Then he said, “Hit me with a hockey stat.”
I looked at him. “Okay,” I said and was confident I could pull this off because I knew a lot about hockey. “Goalies can see thirty to forty shots per game, and each puck can be hit up to one hundred miles an hour. That’s like standing in front of a machine firing baseballs at highway speed for sixty minutes.”
“Wow.”
I shrugged. The neon hummed. Sable sighed. My decaf was lukewarm.
“Okay,” he said again and placed a hand close to mine. Did he want to touch me? I wanted to touch him.
I should touch him.I rested a finger on his palm, and he laced our hands and smiled. “Next stat?”
I gave him another one. He listened.
I was completely out of my depth.
But I really loved holding his hand.
Chapter 6
Dane
I pulledoff another shirt with a frown. My little brother, Devon, on a video call, picked up on it immediately.
