Page 58 of Taming Tesla

On the sidewalk, Patrick tips his head down the block. “Walk?”

“That would be nice,” I say, butterflies back in full force.

We walk side-by-side, hands jammed into the pockets of our coats, noses red from the cold.

“When are your folks flying in?’ he says, his tone friendly and conversational.

“The day before the show,” I tell him. “It’s not for another month, and my Dad would jump out a window if he had to stay in a hotel that long.”

“They’re more than welcome to stay at the apartment,” he tells me, flashing me a quick, dimpled smile. There’s nothing cocky or snide about it. “There’s plenty of room.”

“No kidding,” I tell him, happy to have something to talk about. “It’s like Hermione’s bag.”

“What?” he says around a laugh that’s open and genuine. Hearing it, I realize how badly I’ve missed it.

“You know,” I say, blushing like an idiot. “Hermione’s bag—it looks tiny on the outside, but it’s super huge and—”I stop explaining because he’s still laughing. “you really don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“Oh, no,” he says, shaking his head. The perfect gentleman, he stops in front of Benny’s long enough to open the door for me before placing his hand on the small of my back to usher me inside the crowded restaurant. “I know what you’re talking about, I just never took you for a Harry Potter fan.”

Remembering what he said to me that rainy Monday morning, I looked up at him and smile, heart, fluttering in my chest when he reaches out to unbutton my jacket. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know, Mr. Gilroy—you’d be surprised.”

He gives me a lopsided grin, one that makes me want to lick his dimples. One that tells me he’s remembering the same thing I am. “Is that a fact, Ms. Faraday?” he says softly, slipping the last button free, his hands linger on the lapels of my coat like he’s having a hard time letting go.

“It is,” I say, jostled closer to him by the crush of people that crowd the waiting area. Suddenly we’re standing chest to chest, and I can’t breathe.

“Well,” he says softly, gaze dipping low, brushing over my mouth. “I do love a surprise.”

Holy shit.

He’s going to kiss me.

I feel myself sway into him, my chin tipping to meet his mouth, my heart hammers in my chest…

“Veronica!” Nora’s voice cuts through my blissed-out brain buzz. “Where the hell have you been?”

I can feel my eyes widen slightly. I must look terrified because Patrick looks like he’s trying to smother a laugh. “I told her you were sleeping,” Patrick says, the corner of his mouth quirking again, his hands sliding down the front of my coat before letting me go.

“Sleeping?” I say, tossing a look over my shoulder. Nora is standing next to her throne, tapping the toe of her orthopedic shoe. I look back at Patrick. “You told her I was sleeping? For eleven months?”

His mouth softens into something too sad to be considered a smile. “My best friend left me,” he says to me. “It was hard to talk about.”

I open my mouth, not sure what’s going to come out.

“Veronica, get your ass over here,” Nora cuts me off. Saves me from saying or doing something stupid.

“You better go talk to her, or she’s going to have them put mushrooms in your omelet.” Patrick smiles, and he’s my friend again like the last thirty-seconds never happened.

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