Head Over Feels

“It’s just around the corner,” he says.

“What is?”

He chuckles. “The restaurant. What did you think I was talking about?”

Rolling my hand next to my head, I reply, “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”

“It’s okay. Want to talk about it?”

“No. Definitely not.” I hate that I snap, but what am I going to say? I’m thinking about you touching me in completely inappropriate and non-platonic ways? Yeah, I don’t think that’d go over well.

“Okay. Noted.” I stop walking. When he stops a few steps ahead of me and looks back, he asks, “What is it?”

“I don’t want you to not ask me questions. I want you to ask, and I want to tell you, but sometimes. . .” I look at my shoes and fidget with the seams of my jeans.

“Sometimes what, Tealey? You can tell me anything.”

Looking up, I sigh heavily. “I know you say that, and I know you mean it, but I don’t know.” I start walking to catch up. “I think I need to talk to Marlow.”

“All right.” He pops out his elbow. “Let’s go, and you can talk to Marlow.”

Why does he always have to be so understanding? If he’d pushed me a little more, I would have confessed everything. But now is clearly not the time, so I slip my arm around his and settle for the physical closeness instead.

* * *

“We’re only missing Cammie and Cade,” Jackson says, rubbing his stomach as he rests back in his chair.

Marlow tips her glass back and finishes the last few drops of wine. “I’m starting to think this is how it will be from now on.”

Since it’s something I’ve thought a lot about as well, I say, “I hope not.”

Rad reaches for his glass. “Things are changing. We’re changing. It’s not a bad thing. It’s life evolving.”

With an exhaustive exhale, Marlow’s patience has worn thin. “Why does life always have to change? If it’s not your father divorcing, it’s Mother’s botched fillers or praising an artist’s work while stroking their ego when you hate the art they make. Or your friends getting married and losing them for the better part of a year while your other friends are too busy for you.”

Rad, Jackson, and I stare at her. I think my personal problems need to be put on the back burner. Reaching over, I take her hand and hold it. “We’d never forget about you. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. There’s been so much going on—”

“Tealey, I know. It’s just been stressful, but I’ll be fine. I always am.”

Marlow’s gaze lengthens to the front of the restaurant. When she looks at me, she smiles. “I’m lucky to have you guys in my life.”

Jackson says, “We’re the final four.”

I say, “We’ll always have each other.” I find comfort in the exchange of knowing looks. Whatever happens, we will always be there for each other. The restaurant comes back to life around us, invading the moment bonding us together.

The back of my hand grazes the side of Rad’s unwittingly, but I let my own desire to be touched again overwhelm my common senses and leave it just a beat or two longer. I can place the blame squarely on Rad’s shoulders, his biceps, those sexy forearms, and strong hands. But he hasn’t crossed any boundaries despite what my body would love to beg him to do.

He’s made me believe that I don’t need to settle for some guy who doesn’t cherish me when I can have a man willing to do anything for me. Not saying that’s Rad. Just saying that he’s given me back my self-confidence.

Looking at my beautiful friend, I’ve learned that even the strongest need reassurance. “I’m only a phone call away, Marlow.”

She nods. “I’m just missing how it used to be.”

It’s probably the first time in adulthood that I’m looking forward to the future more than I enjoy living in the memories. I’m loving the new direction in my life. I take her hand and give it a squeeze since I can’t share the same sentiment.

The night has written its last chapter, and we say our goodbyes. In the back of the taxi, the lights from outside flash across Rad’s face in a myriad of colors when he rolls his head in my direction. “Did you have a good time?”

“I did. You?”

“Yes, but you were too far.”

“Too far from what?”

“Me,” he states.

My breath stops hard in my chest as his words send my thoughts spinning. What does he mean I’m too far? I try to riddle through any reasoning but still can’t land on anything that makes sense, so I say, “I was next to you, not more than two feet.”

Reaching over, he takes my hand and holds it on the seat between us. “Like I said, too far.”

This is confusing, him holding my hand like he’s my boyfriend while my pulse races us home. Pushing the boundaries of our friendship in a new direction? Or me reading too much into it?