“For what?” He made a grab for it anyway, his fingers sweeping it from my grip. Damn him and his big hands. “Hm,” he said, reading through it as I searched his face for some flash of recognition even though I knew not to expect one. “I wonder what the person was deciding to do.”
“Kind of sounds like telling someone how they feel or maybe starting a relationship?” I took the paper back, drawn in by the words. “I don’t know. You think it’s someone who works here?”
He shrugged again. “Dunno. Pizza tonight?”
“Si, why aren’t you interested in this?” I swatted at his arm. “It’s a mystery.”
“It’s... trash.”
I rolled my eyes, smiling at a couple lingering near the entrance who then decided to walk on. “I blame Erin if you are this unmoved by a potential love story.” My brain was waving hands wildly at my mouth, the universal sign to indicate “Stop talking. What is wrong with you?” I rarely listened to my brain in those moments.
“It’s not a love story; it’s someone’s discarded decision-making tool.” Silas swatted at my arm as I had his and tried to grab the paper out of my hands, but I snapped it back.
“It’s the possibility of a love story. What if someone dropped this and they have to make this decision soon? What if their happily ever after is hanging in the balance?”
His brown eyes narrowed, those brows that had no business looking as manicured as they did furrowed. “The list isn’t that long. I’d hope they could re-create it or work from memory.”
“You’re missing the point,” I said, tucking the paper into my apron.
“The point being you’re nosy and bored?”
I leaned on the counter, catching the clock out of the corner of my eye. My shift was almost over. “What if you had to make some critical decision about the woman you loved and you were talking yourself into the right decision, then lost this?”
“That doesn’t sound like me.” He handed me a stick of gum from his pocket. Julianna didn’t let us chew it in the shop and I always craved something minty at the end of my shift.
“Humor me. Maybe this person is taking losing this list as a sign from the universe they shouldn’t act on their feelings.”
“Teag, I really think you’re reading too much into this.”
I met his stare head-on, lifting one of my much less impressive eyebrows. “I’m invoking the no-veto rule.”
Silas stilled, his lips parting. Damn those full lips. “The no-veto rule... for this?”
The summer after sophomore year, we’d gone on a road trip through the Midwest. At the time, it felt like a grand adventure, but mostly it was cheap motels and an inordinate amount of gas station snacks as we took in the world’s largest, oldest, best, et cetera. It was the best and worst days of our friendship, and we’d created the no-veto rule. Each of us got to choose one thing we both had to do, and the other couldn’t say no. We kept it going, each year the clock resetting and each of us getting one new no-veto card to play. Over the years, he’d made me do Star Wars cosplay, eat octopus, and spend Thanksgiving with him and Erin. I’d made him take a nine-hour bus tour of Manhattan, watch the entirety of Gossip Girl, and go skinny-dipping. I’d been grossed out by the octopus and he’d considered never talking to me again when we almost got caught skinny-dipping, but we always had fun whatever we were doing together.
Silas sighed and held out his hand. “Okay. This is low stakes for no-veto, but let me see it again.”
“And pizza sounds great,” I said, beaming and tapping his nose with my fingertip. “Extra pepperoni.”
“Like you had to specify.”