Heteroflexible

I shrug, then prop an elbow up on the window. “Anyway, I’m not nervous. I’m … curious.”

Jimmy grips the steering wheel in that one-handed, muscular way of his, proudly commanding the vehicle even if it isn’t his own. He gives his hat one anxious tug and, with his eyes still focused on the road, half-turns his face to me. “You’re curious …?”

“Yeah. Curious.” I fiddle with the sleeves to my fitted blue button-up I’m wearing. It’s one of Jimmy’s. He took me back to his ranch to dress me from his own collection of stylish threads. “It’s been a while, y’know?”

“A while since what?”

“Since I’ve met a new guy. And I don’t mean at a nightclub setting where everyone’s lookin’ at everyone. I mean … a tabletop, in a restaurant, where you and your date and a nice meal over conversation are your only focuses. No one and nothing else.”

Jimmy drives in silence for a while after that, chewing on his inner cheek in thought. “Hmm,” he grunts eventually, then shrugs and nods. “Sure. Yeah.”

We don’t say much else.

Until ten minutes later when the warm and romantic lighting that pours out of the windows of Nadine’s washes over the car. Jimmy pulls into a spot right by the front and kills the engine.

“You ready, my man?”

Despite my nervousness—yes, of course I’m nervous—I shrug and play it off like it’s just another Saturday night. Bored, even. “You remember the signal, right?”

Jimmy smirks at me. “You realize you can literally just text me ‘Hey, come save me’ and that would suffice? We don’t need a special signal or something. I’ll be right out here in the car.”

“Yeah, I know. But just in case.”

“Just in case of what? An alien invasion or electromagnetic explosion that disrupts all our cell signals and renders all forms of communication futile?”

I stare at Jimmy.

He shrugs. “Star Trek was on last night after you fell asleep. I stayed up and watched an episode. Or two.”

“Wow. That’s even nerdy for your standards.”

Jimmy’s face screws up. “For my standards?”

“Wait, that means you were up really late. Did you have some trouble sleeping last night?”

He peers off through the windshield at the restaurant. “I slept just fine,” he mutters vaguely.

I study the side of his face awhile, just a tinge of frustration building up in me. I knew this was going to be hard on Jimmy, not being the center of my universe for four and a half seconds. But I think a little resistance from his side is to be expected.

And I should allow him his space to be moody.

And sleepless. And restless. And watching late-night Star Trek for God-knows-why.

And all those other endearingly Jimmy Strong qualities.

“I should probably go on inside. You sure you’re just gonna sit out here the whole time? You can go run an errand if you want.”

“Nah, I’m just fine here.” He cranks his seat back and kicks his feet up onto the dash suddenly, legs crossed in his torn skinny jeans, and webs his fingers together over his lap. “Got music, got games on my phone, I’ll just chill ‘til you’re done with Ding-Dong.”

“His name isn’t Ding-Dong.”

“You don’t know what his name is. My mama didn’t even give you that courtesy, huh? It’s a double-blind, no-name date. What if his name’s Elvis?”

“His name isn’t gonna be Elvis.”

“Or Leroy. Can you date a Leroy? What about a Jim? What if his name’s Jim, and you gotta deal with everyone confusing the two of us when you start datin’ for serious?”

“Dang it, shush your mouth.”

“Oh, God. Even worse, what if his name’s Bobby?” Jimmy gasps. “Can you date yourself, Bobby? Can you do it?”

After a deep breath, I give Jimmy a stern pat on his shoulder. “Alright, Professor Panic. I think it’s about time I head in before you run through the names of everyone we know in Spruce. Have fun with your games and your tunes. Oh, and …” I give him a tiny smile. “Thanks for the snazzy threads.”

He whips out his phone and starts playing a game already. “Go and be your bad-ass self, Bobby Parker,” he throws my way without even looking at me.

That’s Jimmy Strong for you.

All attitude, sass, and skintight Wranglers.

Professor Panic. I gotta remember that one.

I slip out of the car, shut the door, take a deeper breath than my lungs have the capacity for, and let it all out as I stroll up to the ornate front glass doors of Nadine’s.

Fairview is basically a twin cousin of Spruce, except with a big dark underbelly no one really talks about, and unless you’re from the town, the only reason you drive here is to drive through it.

Unless you’re going to the oasis that is Nadine’s—a little pinch of Spruce-lovin’ in the middle of an otherwise strange, sometimes unfriendly, occasionally elitist little town.