Page 23 of The Dallas Dilemma

“Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan movies are my favorites.”

“You forgotJoe Versus the Volcano,” I say, and the hair on my nape prickles for some reason.

She twists her upper body in my direction. “You know that one? Most people I know have never seen it.”

“You’re afraid of commitment?”I quote.“You’re going to have to love and honor me for about thirty seconds.”

“Wow,” Josette says with a laugh, and I laugh with her.

That eerie feeling from before vanishes, and we both fall silent as the ocean comes into view. Josette only speaks to tell me to get off on the next exit and turn left. It’s only a couple of more turns before we’re pulling into the parking lot at the harbor.

After grabbing a parking pass from one of the electronic podiums and sticking it on the dash, we head down toward the water. I kick off my flip flops and pick them up, and Josette follows suit. At the edge of the tide line, water tickles our toes. It’s cold, and Josette squealsbefore skipping away. I laugh and follow her into the soft, drier sand. We walk for a long time, talking and laughing, then spin around and walk back the way we came. We find a small ice cream shop and pop in for some waffle cones before walking back across the street to the sandy beach.

I stop a stranger, asking him to take a picture of us holding our ice cream cones with the ocean in the background. Josette looks a bit startled and more than a little uncomfortable, but doesn’t comment while the man snaps a few pics and hands my phone back to me. I tuck the device into my pocket after thanking him, not even glancing at the pictures.

“You okay?” I ask her as we walk toward the parking lot where we left my car. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked your permission before I did that. I can delete the pictures, if you want.”

“No,” she blurts, then shakes her head and continues in a softer voice. “No, don’t do that. I just…”

“What?” I ask when she doesn’t finish the thought.

“I’d just never stop a stranger like that. I,” she pauses to inhale deeply, then blows it out before continuing, “wouldn’t want to bother or annoy anyone like that.”

“I get it,” I say with a nod, and Josette’s head turns in my direction, staring at me with wide eyes.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I really do. Are you ready to head back?”

Josette looks disappointed, but she clears her expression quickly. “Yeah. Sure.”

She starts to walk faster, and I grab her hand, pullingher to a stop. She looks at the connection for a few beats, but doesn’t pull away. Then, she meets my eyes.

“I’m not suggesting we leave because I want to,” I say, my tone firm as I hold the eye contact. “I was asking youifyou’reready to leave. Ifyouneedto.”

“What do you mean?” she asks.

I tighten my grip on her hand. “You’re not entirely comfortable out in public, and your apartment is your safe space. I asked if you were ready to go to let you know that we can head back whenever you want or need to. To let you know that leaving won’t annoy me or disappoint me in any way. That hanging out with me doesn’t have to be an all-day thing. I’ll take eight hours or eight minutes. I just want you to be comfortable and have a good time.”

I used to know someone who suffered from social anxiety, and I recognize the signs. Josette’s anxiety seems to be a much milder case than my friend’s was, though. He had trouble leaving his room for any reason. But the signs are there, and I just want to make sure she feels comfortable.

She stares at me for several beats, then her lips turn up into a ghost of a smile. “Maybe we can just walk on the beach for a while longer?”

CHAPTER NINE

Joey

My thoughts raceas Dallas releases my hand and starts walking again. I keep pace with him, my teeth tugging at my bottom lip as I think. No one has ever understood me so completely, so quickly before. It took Twila months to fully understand all of my idiosyncrasies when we first met. And that was first grade, so my issues were a fraction of what they are now.

I’ve hung out with Dallas three times if you count the time he fixed my cabinets, and he already gets it and knows exactly what to do and say.Andhe’s not annoyed by my fear of being annoying. I’m shocked while somehow simultaneously unsurprised.

He just makes me feel…seen.

Silence stretches between us, but I can see Dallas’ smile as he watches the waves crash against the sand. He seems at peace, so at odds with the emotions snaking through me. His calm seems to wash over me, and my heartrate slows as I work up the nerve to ask the question burning inside me.

“How did you know exactly what to say to make me feel okay being me?”

Dallas stops walking and turns to face me. “I had a friend in high school who suffered from social anxiety disorder. His case was severe––he got sweaty and nauseous every morning just thinking about having to go to school. And when he got there, he avoided eye contact and refused to talk to anyone. The only reason we became friends was because a teacher paired us together on a long-term project. He eventually began to feel more comfortable around me, and we ended up becoming best friends. Your anxiety is obviously not as bad as his was, but I noticed the signs. The way you barely cracked the door open the day we met, for instance.”

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