Page 38 of Maybe You

“Dear God,” he mutters, but there’s still that nice spark of laughter in his voice. I’m not sure what I said, but if he finds it funny, I’ll take it.

“Can you maybe narrow it down a bit?”

“It’s on a street,” I say. He’s still waiting expectantly, so I guess I’ll have to narrow it down even more for Mr. Specific here. “There’s a tree right in front.”

He’s still watching me with a thick air of amusement surrounding him.

“Any street signs nearby?”

“A whole bunch,” I say happily. He lobs those questions at me, and I know the answers to all of them!

“Okay.” He rubs his fingers over his forehead. “How about this: Do you know your address?”

Now this one’s a bit tricky. I know I have one, but right this second that information doesn’t seem to want to come to me.

Ah well.

“I definitely have one,” I say with a confident nod. “I’m pretty sure if I walk around a bit I’ll recognize where I live. You can’t miss that tree.”

He rubs his hand over his mouth and stares at me for a long moment.

“Okay,” he finally says. “Okay. Come on, then.”

“Yes! A quest for the tree shall begin,” I announce grandly.

I guess his feet are tired though, because once we hit the next street—no tree on this one—he flags down a cab.

“Good call. We’ll cover much more ground this way.” I knock on the plexiglass partition. “Sir? Can you please take us to the nearest tree?”

Sutton pats my shoulder and gently pulls me back against the seat. “He already has the directions.”

“Oh, good.” I lean my head back and aim my gaze at the cab’s ceiling.

“You feeling okay?” Sutton asks.

I turn my head and smile at him widely. “Great. My fingertips are buzzing.” I press them against the side of his neck. “Can you feel it?”

It takes him a little bit to answer, and I feel him swallow. Feels funny, so I keep my fingers in place.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a bit rough. “Sure. Buzzing.”

“You smell nice,” I say, and where Sutton sounded rough, my own voice sounds distant and dreamy to my ears. I lean closer to his neck and sniff. “Like…” I take another whiff. “Like lavender. And mint.”

He’s very still while I smell him, which is nice of him. Accommodating. The tip of my nose is against his neck now as I inhale. The cab moves through the midnight streets of New York. I yawn and lean my head against Sutton’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” I say.

He inhales deeply and slowly lets the breath out.

“For what?”

“I had fun tonight. I don’t usually have fun.”

He’s silent for a little bit before he says, “You’re welcome.”

I hum in reply and burrow closer. He’s warm, and he smells nice, and it’s generally just nice being close to somebody like this, and I never ever get to do that anymore.

I look out the window and just feel good for the time being, and when the cab stops and Sutton wraps his hand around mine and gently pulls, I follow without questions. He pays the cabbie, and then we’re standing on the street. I’m not sure where I am exactly, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t my street. Unless somebody’s changed everything about it since I left for work earlier, which would be a lot of effort for no reason at all.

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