Page 50 of Glass Half Full
“I have another question for you,” I tell her once we’re settled, our thighs less than an inch apart.
“Shoot.”
“I want this to be the best that it can be for you. I want you to be comfortable, so I’m just going to ask now: when you say walking and talking, do you mean—”
“I also mean this.” She threads her fingers through mine.
“Oh. Okay.”
Then her face is tilting up towards mine. “And maybe a little of this.”
She tastes like chai tea and the chill in the air. My thumb brushes the back of her neck as we kiss, and I feel her shiver against me.
“I don’t ever want to stop kissing you,” I murmur against her lips.
“So don’t.”
Fourteen
Renee
CONSONANCE: The harmonic resemblance and repetition of consonant sounds within a sentence or phrase
Have fun on your date!
Tahseen follows up her message with a GIF of two puppies licking each other’s faces. I send her a confused emoji along with my question.
Is that supposed to be me and Dylan?
She tells me it is.
Creepy and weird.Also it’s not a date.
I get a string of emojis laughing so hard they’re crying in response to that one. I’m about to clarify that Dylan and I are ‘walking and talking’ rather than dating before I realize how insane that sounds. It makes sense in my head, and it seems to make sense in Dylan’s, so I guess that’s all that matters.
It’s been a week since our first coffee date. Rain dots the window of the bus as I ride over to the same cafe. It’s more of a mist than an actual downpour, the watery haze on the glass blurring the edges of the world outside. I turn my attention back to my phone, and Tahseen and I make a plan to hang out later this week. She’s getting hit pretty hard with assignments, and I’ve been promising her a trip to Starbz as a reward for her making it through a presentation tomorrow.
It feels good to make plans, to be out of the house on a regular basis. My parents still text me several times a day to make sure I’m all right, but when I told them I was meeting a friend from work on my way out of the house this morning, my mom pulled me into a hug and my dad said I should fit a family dinner at a restaurant into my busy schedule sometime soon. It should have embarrassed me to have the revival of my social life be cause for celebration, but it didn’t. I wrapped my arms around my mom for a second hug as soon as she let go.
Even my therapist complimented me. I sort of freaked out on her about Dylan, but after we’d talked everything through, she told me I’ve been making an incredible amount of progress and that she’s proud to see me putting my health first.
The bus pulls up at my stop, and I make my way up the aisle, calling a “Merci!” to the driver as I step out the door.
It only takes my eyes a second to find him. He’s huddled under the cafe’s awning to keep out of the light rain, leaning against the wall in dark jeans and a grey hoodie. My stomach dips as I take the sight of him in, all broad shoulders and messy hair, and my heart kicks up with the urge to throw myself at him and put that wall to good use.
I settle for a more socially acceptable hug instead. The contact is still enough to send a rush of heat up my neck and into my cheeks.
We’ve seen each other at work a lot over the past week, but we’re both being extra cautious there. I don’t want anyone thinking we’re together until we reallyaretogether, and if the announcement has consequences when we finally make it, I want to be ready to face them, so it’s been covert glances only when we’re at Taverne Toulouse.
There’s nothing covert about the way we’re holding each other now.
“Hey.” I speak for the first time once I’ve got my arms around his neck.
“Hey.” He inhales deeply through his nose, and I can’t resist calling him out.
“Did you just smell my hair?”
His body stiffens. “Um...no?”
