“Yes, you’re right,” he said quietly, meeting her eyes. “Of course, that’s literally the definition of dating. But I had hoped for more.”
The disappointment in his voice made Rachel's chest ache. She'd known, on some level, that David wanted more. And if Jack hadn’t returned, she might have gone down that path with him. But she couldn’t say for sure that she would have been able to give him what he wanted.
“I'm sorry, David.” Rachel's voice was soft and sincere. “I never meant to mislead you. That was never my intention.”
David was quiet for a long moment. The server brought their wine, and he took a long sip before setting the glass down. Rachel watched the tension in his shoulders shift, something recalibrating behind his eyes. When he spoke again, the sharp edge had dulled, replaced by something more rueful.
“It's okay, Rachel.” He sighed, then let out a short laugh that seemed to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation even when it stung. “We're still coworkers and friends.”
“You should know that he'll be one of the JV baseball coaches,” Rachel added, because leaving that information out felt dishonest.
David's eyebrows shot up. “You're kidding?”
She shook her head slowly. “No.”
“Good, good.” David nodded, and there it was again… that spark of something competitive flickering in his expression. “If I have to lose out to an old boyfriend, I have to admit, his high school baseball record hasn't been bested. But he’s just with JV. My varsity wrestling team’s win record will still beat his.” He paused, then added with a smirk, “He won’t be able to compete with my team.”
Rachel blinked as she stared. She'd hoped David would take it gracefully, but the competitive angle surprised her. The way his jaw had set, not with sadness, but with something that looked almost like a challenge.
She'd expected awkwardness, maybe some hurt feelings that would take time to heal. What she hadn't expected was David turning this into some kind of athletic rivalry. The shift was so sudden and so unexpected that Rachel didn't quite know what to do with it.
Their dinner didn't last much longer after that. Rachel found the rest of the conversation unpleasant. The easy rhythm they usually shared was replaced by something stilted and strange. David was perfectly polite, asked about her week, and commented on the food. But underneath the pleasantries, she could feel the undercurrent of something she couldn't quite name. Not anger, exactly. Not jealousy, though there had been flashes of that earlier. Something more like wounded pride that had transformed into a need to prove himself.
Finally, they walked out to the parking lot together. The night air was cool, and Rachel pulled her jacket tighter around her shoulders. The restaurant's warm light spilled out behind them, casting long shadows across the asphalt.
With the past couple of dates, David had kissed her when they said goodbye. It was pleasant, even comfortable. Tonight, he moved in to do it again, leaning down with that familiar intent expression.
But all Rachel could think was that it didn't feel right. Not tonight. Not after everything that had been said and left unsaid at the dinner table. So she turned her head, just slightly, and his lips landed on her cheek instead.
David chuckled at the move, a quiet sound that held no real amusement. He stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets, and gave her a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
“Drive safe,” he said.
“You too, David.”
She was thrilled to get in her car and drive away. The silence felt like a relief after the tension of the evening. Rachel gripped the steering wheel and let out a long breath she felt like she'd been holding for hours.
When she got home, she flopped down on her small sofa and stared at the ceiling. She should be thrilled that David had taken it so well. And part of her was grateful that he hadn't made a scene, hadn't demanded explanations, or turned it into a dramatic confrontation.
But there had been that flash… the brief, unmistakable flash of unhappiness on his face when she'd first told him. Before he'd gone on and on about Jack's baseball record versus his wrestling wins. Almost competitive, the way his eyes had narrowed when she mentioned the coaching position. His chin had lifted, as if he were sizing up an opponent rather than processing that she and he would just remain friends.
Ugh.
Rachel closed her eyes and let the quiet of her apartment wash over her. The evening had been draining in ways she hadn't anticipated. She'd expected relief, maybe a touch of guilt. Instead, she felt unsettled, like she'd watched a scene play out in an entirely unexpected way.
She had no idea what would happen with her and Jack, if anything, but the knowledge that she wanted to just be friends with David washed over her.
Her phone vibrated on the coffee table beside her. Rachel reached for it lazily, expecting a text from Cindy asking how dinner had gone. But the name on the screen made her breath catch.
It was from Jack. Thinking of you. Can't wait for tomorrow night. See you at 6. Sleep well.
Rachel read the message twice, then a third time. A smile spread across her face before she could stop it. A sense of warm familiarity washed over her. Just like always, the thought of Jack made something light up inside her chest. A feeling she'd carried since she was fourteen years old.
She typed back a simple reply. Tomorrow night. 6. I’ll be ready. Sweet dreams.
She almost didn’t type the last two words, but the affectionate phrase had flown from her fingers like muscle memory. Then she set the phone down and smiled at the ceiling, letting the feeling settle over her like a blanket.
Some things never changed. No matter how many years passed, no matter how many miles stretched between them, no matter how many times they'd dealt with distant hearts and tried to piece themselves back together.
