51. Rosalyn

FIFTY-ONE

ROSALYN

Nathan tells me about his first game.

He tells me what it was like to play in front of tens of thousands of people. Unreal was his answer.

Nathan talks about the places he lived.

We finish another round.

I ask him questions about ending up here. And he tells me that he moved here to be close to his best friend, Maddox. But that Maddox thinks he moved here just because he liked the state.

I keep asking questions, learning more about his life, and he keeps answering.

And it's easy. Because talking to him is easy.

Just like it used to be.

We start another round.

He asks me about my company.

Asks me about the name, and I tell him it's a nod to my faraway dream of owning a restaurant.

He asks me how I would decorate the restaurant. And I tell him.

About the wicker chandeliers. The pale peach walls. The comfortable chairs. The marshmallow flights .

He takes a large pull off his drink and asks, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

I slowly shake my head.

"Anyone you're seeing casually?" he asks.

I shake my head again.

"Me either." Nathan holds my gaze.

Tonight has been fun. Comfortable. Easygoing.

But we haven't stopped touching.

His knees pressing against mine.

His fingers in my hair.

My pulse constantly leaping.

I lift my drink to my lips. Not sure what else to say.

Nathan sets his empty glass down next to the empty pitcher. "Rosie."

I swallow down the rest of my courage, then set my empty glass next to his. "Yes, Nathan?"

His nostrils flare like he's holding himself back from something. "I'm going to order a ride home." His eyes drop to my mouth. "Will you come with me?"

I let my own gaze lower to his mouth. "Yes, Nathan."

His lips twist up on the side, and a low sound comes out of his throat.

I expect him to say something more, but he doesn't. Instead, he sits up straight and pulls his phone out of his pocket.

This is going to be the best worst idea of my life.

And as I slide off the chair, I promise myself I'll make the most of it.

Then I'll move on.