Driving over to Sam’s place, I tried to rationalize my thinking. I didn’t know if this pull toward her had to do with the way I struggled for years, trying to accept the distance between us. Maybe now that she was so close, I simply wanted to make sure that it stayed that way. But did I have that right? To want to keep her close? The answer came before I even finished asking the question – No. I was playing with fire and I knew it.
Sam directed me to hang two rights followed by a left, before we finally parked again. We had a little ways to walk, but it was perfect outside so neither of us minded. Being this close to her shouldn’t have been such a difficult task, but it was so bad that I had to put my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her hand or waist out of habit. She looked at least as uncomfortable as I did. This was what I meant when I told Terrell that it would be difficult for Sam and I to do the ‘friends’ thing. We were accustomed to flirting, touching, and everything else whenever the hell we wanted to without discretion. Being her friend would mean existing side by side in a state of constant restraint. Would it be easy? No. But was I willing to try? Clearly, yes, hence the reason I was forcing myself to look at the sidewalk instead of at her.
When we approached the entrance of the small mom-and-pop pizzeria that Sam suggested, I held the door and let her go inside first. The place wasn’t as crowded as I expected it to be, probably because it was nearly midnight on a Wednesday. The two people in line before us finished ordering and then Sam moved up. She asked for two slices and a couple drinks, I paid, and then we took a seat at a table near the window facing the street.
When I stole a glance at her from across the table, her eyes lingered on mine for a moment and she smiled, something I’d noticed her doing a lot of since arriving at her apartment. Even though I shouldn’t have – trust me I know it was wrong – but I hoped like hell all the grinning and blushing was because of me.
“I’m glad you came out with me,” I admitted just because I thought she should know. Sam touched her napkin to her lips and I watched as her cheeks turned red once again.
“Me too.”
I forced my eyes away from hers and fought the pull. She sipped her drink and I stared at the glass when she set it down.
“And I know we’ve got a lot to talk about,” she started. “So I’m ready whenever you are.” After that, she took a deep breath. I frowned a little, but I don’t think she noticed.
Was that why she thought I brought her out tonight? To rehash the past?
When I finally did meet her gaze, it looked like she was desperate for a response. Whatever she wanted to say must’ve been something she’d been carrying for a while. If this talk needed to happen before we were officially back on track, I suppose sooner was better than later.
“Um, sure. We can go somewhere and talk as soon as we leave here,” I suggested, only putting it off because a group of college-aged kids had just taken the table beside us, carrying on loudly about whatever movie they’d just left.
I spent the rest of my meal wondering what all she had to say. When I wasn’t doing that, I was trying as hard as I could to pay more attention to the words leaving her mouth than I was to her lips. When I finally gave up trying, I resorted to aimless nods that seemed to fit into the right places of our conversation. I really did try to listen, but she had me distracted beyond belief.
Was she always this beautiful? I mean, I know she must’ve been, but….