Page 6 of Wish You Would

I was yanked from the depression drain my thoughts had taken by Parker shoving her stack of books aside to make room for her elbows on the tabletop.

“Did you know,” she said, her blue eyes glittering at me, “that Cranky Carl has three grandkids?”

I opened my mouth, but shock had rendered me speechless.

“The oldest just came out as nonbinary,” she continued, undeterred by my silence. “We had a whole conversation the other day about how he’s trying so hard to get their pronouns right.” She shook her head, a little smile touching her lips. “Isn’t that the sweetest?”

“How…did that conversation even start?” I frowned across the table at this impossible creature. “I’ve known the guy nearly my entire life, and he’s only said maybe fifty words to me. Ever.”

Parker lifted a shoulder, one glossy curl falling forward. “I don’t know. I guess I just…have one of those faces.” She said it with a grin so overtly angelic that I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

“I gotta say, Samuels. If you can crack someone like Cranky Carl, you’re gonna be an excellent therapist.”

“Aww, thank you.” She beamed across the table and I clenched my teeth against the rush of warmth that smile sent through me.

“So.” Parker fixed her gaze on her glass, pushing an ice cube to the bottom with her straw. I tucked my chaotic thoughts away and refocused on the moment. “The band was good tonight.” She didn’t look up as she said it, instead watching as the ice cube floated back to the top of the glass. Beneath the light, I watched her cheeks pinken.

I straightened, narrowing my eyes. “They were,” I agreed slowly. “Usually are.”

She continued to toy with the ice in her glass, long lashes casting shadows across her flushed skin. “I saw you talking to them after their set. You guys seemed pretty cool.”

“Yeah.” I pulled my leg up, resting my arm on my knee as I catalogued Parker’s body language. The flushed cheeks, the lack of eye contact. The fidgeting. All of which pinged my brain in a way I hated. “The drummer and I went to high school together.”

At that, Parker’s gaze flicked up. “Halle?”

“Yeah. We met in detention and—” I stopped, the flicker of interest in Parker’s blue eyes like a neon arrow pointing to the answer. “Wait.” I dropped my foot to the floor and leaned in, leveling a hard stare on her face to disguise the wave of disappointment rushing over me. “Do you have a crush on Halle?”

Parker’s cheeks burned hotter. “What?” She waved a dismissive hand, sinking back in her seat. “No. Don’t be ridi…pssh.” Her eyes avoided mine. “Can you imagine? Me?” The laugh that left her was shrill and unnatural. “Don’t be silly.”

I folded my arms across my chest and waited. She’d run out of steam eventually.

“I’m too old for crushes,” she went on, unknowingly slinging stones my way. If she was too old, at twenty-six, what did that say about me at thirty? “Way too old. That’s just…it’s just absurd. So absurd. I haven’t had a crush in years. Years! The last time I had a crush, I—” Catching sight of me watching her, not believing a word she said, she exhaled, shoulders dropping. “Fine.” She wrapped both hands around her glass and averted her gaze. “Yeah, okay. I’ve got a crush.”

“On Halle.”

She nodded, and somehow her cheeks burned even brighter. “Well, well, well,” I started, keeping my tone light, despite the battle raging within me.

She’s not straight! one voice sang, the revelation a spark of hope I hadn’t dared let myself have. It was immediately extinguished, however, by the realist inside me. But she’s into someone else.

“It’s ridiculous, I know.” She glanced up, chagrin on her lovely face. “I’m ridiculous. I just…” She trailed off, wiping her thumb across the condensation on her glass. “She’s so…you know? And I’m…well, not great at this stuff.” She gestured at herself. “Clearly.”

I laughed, even as something hot twisted in my belly. “It’s alright. It happens to the best of us.”

She cocked her brow. “Even you?” Her eyes flickered over me. “I somehow doubt you’ve ever been bad at this stuff.”

“Oh, my god.” I laughed again, this time more genuine. “You have no idea. Me, in high school? A disaster.”

“I don’t believe you. I’ve seen you in action. You’re so…good at the whole flirting thing. Meanwhile, I can’t even say hi to someone I like.” She shook her head, a lock of dark hair falling over her shoulder. “Poor Simon. He’s come to these shows with me so many times, hyping me up. And I just…don’t do it.”

That warm thing in my chest grew. Just a titch. She was so cute. I wanted to reach across the table and run my hand over her shiny hair. Tell her it was gonna be okay.

“Probably doesn’t help,” she went on, “that all my experience in this department has been with guys. They’re easy. Easy to read, easy to talk to. Women, though.” Her eyes widened, hands twisting on the tabletop. “They’re scary.”

“Oh, we’re not so bad.” I threaded my fingers together on the table to keep from reaching for her fidgeting hands. “Just start with hello.”

“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?” A self-deprecating laugh left her. “For months, man. Simon’s gonna kill me if I keep dragging him out on work nights only to watch me chicken out.”

I watched as she took the lime from the rim and squeezed its juice into her glass, then licked the juice from her fingers. Static filled my brain, drowning out whatever she was saying as my every neuron zoomed in on the pink of her tongue and the paler pink of her nail polish against it.

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