Page 53 of Hold the Pickle

“Or if you’re just plain not attracted.”

“Sure.”

“Do you think both of us feeling it means we are both attracted?”

Nadia is very focused as she asks, like we’re talking about trigonometry. “Probably. We’re both single. We’re getting to know each other. You’re ungodly beautiful.”

“What?”

“You have to know that.”

“I don’t think I do. But you think so?”

I’m pretty sure she’s not fishing for compliments. She’s taking this entire line of logic very seriously. “Everybody thinks so.”

“I seriously doubt that. But okay, so you think I’m ungodly beautiful, or whatever, and I think you’re stupidly sexy, especially after that shower moment, and so when I touched you, those two neurotransmitters went nuts and created what feels like a spark?”

Wait a minute.

“You think I’m stupidly sexy?”

“Everyone does.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I am. That’s beside the point. Do you think it’s okay that we live together?”

Uh oh. This is a left turn. “I mean, sure. We’ve done fine so far.”

She taps her fork against her plate, staring off. “You’re right. It will be okay.”

“It’s chemistry. We have a prefrontal cortex for a reason. We don’t have to jump each other just because our amygdalas generated dopamine and oxytocin.”

She nods. “You’re right. We don’t have to act on a random spark.”

But when she turns back to me, her eyes go straight to my mouth. And mine go to hers.

We stay like that, only a couple of feet apart on the stools.

Should I lean in?

Is she leaning in?

I can barely breathe. Should we do this? Kiss? What will that lead to?

And will it end with one of us out on our ass since we live together?

She seems to be holding her breath.

Then an alarm goes off.

We both jump out of our skins.

My phone is buzzing so hard that it moves on the surface of the bar. I smash my hand on it, trying to push the button to shut it off, but it scoots out of my way.

Finally, I pick it up and turn it off.

Nadia turns back to her plate. “Time for your shift?”

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