Page 110 of With a Little Luck

“Just Pru and Quint,” I say. “And … Ari. They should all be here soon. I think. Might be a few minutes.”

A group in the next booth starts cheering loudly. I gesture lamely at277the big-screen TV behind the bar, where a basketball game is playing. “Big game tonight?”

Carlos’s expression becomes even more suspicious. “First game of the playoffs.”

“Oh.” I nod. “So … that’s a yes?”

Shaking his head, Carlos says, “Do you want to order now, or are you going to wait for everyone?”

“Uh—no, I’ll go ahead and order.”

“Tostones, nachos, Shirley Temples?”

“You know us well,” I say. “Oh, but um … extra cherries in Ari’s drink. And—you know what, put some extra ones in mine, too?”

Carlos rocks back on his heels. “You got it.”

“Oh, and jalapeños. On the nachos. Please.”

He hesitates. We usually request to have the jalapeños removed, because Pru and I don’t care for them, though sometimes Ari will ask for them on the side.

“If you insist,” he says. “Anything else?”

“That’s it for now. Thanks, Carlos.”

As he walks away, I glance down at my notes, which are, upon further examination, completely useless. What am I going to do? Woo Ari with spicy snacks and a gift card to Annette’s Consignment?

With a groan, I tear out the page and crumple it up.

“That better not have been a new drawing.”

My spine stiffens as Ari slides into the half-circle booth. She’s wearing her plaid shirt, the one that looks like it’s been laundered to within an inch of its life, like it’s held together by clouds and unicorn fur.

Which is to say—soft. It looks really soft.

She scoots in all the way until she’s right next to me, and I know—logically I know—that she is leaving space for Pru and Quint and Ezra. But also, illogically—she is right next to me.Practically touching me. I can smell her hair.

“You’re early,” I stammer, clenching the crumpled page tighter in my fist and panicking momentarily that I might drop it and she might pick it278up, and through some weird twist like in the movies, all would be comically revealed …

For better or worse.

With these muddled thoughts in my head, I miss her response.

“So?” she says.

I blink. “So what?”

She gestures at the paper. “You know how I feel about the needless destruction of fine art.”

I scoff. “Naw. This is just … notes. For something I’m working on. I ordered for us already. Hope that’s okay. Nachos.”

“Yum.” She smiles, but I can’t hold her gaze. My heart is a staccato drumbeat. From the corner of my eye, I watch Ari unravel her silverware from its paper napkin, and I have a nearly irresistible urge to take her hand. Maybe I don’t need to wait for the albums to arrive to show her how I feel about her.

What would happen if I just …told her?

I sit straighter. Take in a breath and don’t let it back out again.

I start to reach for her hand, at the same time that she moves the fork to her other side and—

---