Page 135 of The Tryst

I stop short, panting.

A homeless man is sitting on the bench, picking through a takeout box that must have come from a garbage can.

I feel like I ran into a brick wall.

I do the only thing I can. I take the bagel sandwich from my purse and walk over to him. “Would you like this? I haven’t touched it.”

“Thank you.”

I hand it to him, then turn around and leave.

The bench isn’t truly mine after all. It belongs to others now. It belongs to whoever needs it, and so do the words on the plaque.

47

PLEASE OVERSTEP

Layla

My instinct is to find Harlow and Ethan. They’ve been my people for so long. They always will be.

But there’s someone else who can help me more, someone who desperately loves to help.

As I leave the park, I write a text.

Layla: Hi. I need to talk to you tonight. About a business thing. I’m kind of…lost.

I hit send before I can second guess myself.

Help isn’t something I like asking for, unless it’s from my two closest friends. But I suppose this is what having a relationship is all about.

A few minutes later, he replies.

Nick: Of course. Anything you need.

I wince, a little embarrassed I need him for this question.

But I do. He’s the only one who can help. After we make plans to meet at my place that evening, I head home, lock myself in, and shower without washing my hair. I change into fresh clothes, tossing on a tank top and pulling on jeans.

I loop my dry hair into a messy bun, then grab one of my makeup bags, ready to begin putting on my face.

I stare in the mirror, considering what kind of makeup to use. Maybe just some foundation and gloss? Add in a little mascara for a finishing touch? As I like to say,you’re never fully dressed without mascara.

But when I grab the foundation brush, I have this sudden impulse to…notput on makeup.

It’s weird, this feeling.

Great, just great. Another thing I don’t know how to handle.

I put the brush back in the bag, set the bag on a shelf, and go to my living room, flopping down on my chaise longue and letting myself exist with this uncomfortable, naked feeling.

I click open a book, and I read until Nick texts:

Nick: I’m on my way.

I pop up, feeling totally unsure of myself. But when he knocks and I yank open the door, my uncertainty vanishes.

At least I’m certain of this.

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