Page 16 of Best I Never Had

My eyes squint, looking at the clock on my monitor and finding that it’s already close to one o’clock. And as if on cue, my stomach rumbles softly.

“Yeah,” I say, reaching for my wallet and locking my computer. We walk out of the office in silence, falling in step with others on their way out for their lunch break. “Where did you want to go?” I ask when we approach the elevator.

“I’ve been craving a really good fish taco since last week,” he says, followed by a quick, thoughtful hum.

“Las Tres Vientos?” I suggest as the elevator arrives at our floor. My mouth starts to water thinking about the creamy flan coated in the gooey syrup and savory sweetness I always order after a steamy plate of fajitas.

“Oh yes!” José answers excitedly.

There’s a pep in our steps as we walk out into the afternoon sun. The late summer air is warm but breezy and fresh, and I’m so relieved. It looks like the days of having to carry around an extra stick of deodorant in my purse can be tucked away until next year.

“Ah, I feel like I can finally breathe,” José comments, whipping out a pair of sunglasses. “That summer humidity was doing horrors to my skin.”

“I think we can stop bugging Jason to sneak us into the Soho House now. I’m pretty sure I got my money’s worth on that neon orange bikini from Saks,” I add, referring to our lazy weekend pool days when José’s boyfriend, Jason, snagged us guest passes to the rooftop pool at the Soho House.

“I think we can get in one more pool day before the weather gets too chilly,” José says. “I got these new swim trunks, four inch inseam. It’s so hot. Pink with palm leaves all over it. Jason’s going to see what he’s got when he sees all the man candy eyeing me.”

I laugh and José tosses his head back, making a show of flipping an imaginary tail of hair over his shoulder.

On our way to Las Tres Vientos, we pass by Pour Toujours. I smile to myself, remembering my run-in with Hayden and our trip down memory lane at the party. Before Friday, I had nudged away the memory of our friendship, something that felt personalized and was meant for only us two during the short year that filled our senior year. And now here I am, peering into the storefront of his workplace, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. It’s as if we were always meant to be a part of each other’s lives, and time or distance is irrelevant in the matter.

José is talking animatedly about his Saturday morning with Jason searching for vintage furniture during their trip to Newport, Rhode Island over the weekend. I laugh when he tells the story about how Jason was approached by a woman, pixie blond hair and visibly in her fifties, making a pass at him when José stepped away to get gelato.

“Natalia!”

Both José and I turn at the sound of my name to see Hayden halfway out of Pour Toujours before he lets go of the open door and bounds toward me.

“Are you on your lunch break?” He stands with one hand braced on his hip and the other cupping the back of his neck.

I nod. “Yeah, we were having a hankering for some Mexican food,” I answer, tilting my head in the direction we’re headed. “This is José,” I say, gesturing toward José as they shake hands and smile. “José, this is Hayden,” I add as José’s eyes bounce between me and Hayden.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you on Friday night,” Hayden says, turning to face me. “Dex and I had fun. I hope Lucy wasn’t feeling too hungover the next morning.”

I smile, remembering Lucy’s intoxicated haze as she slumped on the couch once the crowd dwindled back down to just the Marquez girls, as David started endearingly calling us, and David.

“She handled it better than I did.” I laugh. “She left this morning.”

His head shifts into a sympathetic tilt. “Aw, so soon?”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, frowning slightly at the sudden pang of missing my sister. “Next time she’s in town, I’ll let you know. I’m sure she’d love to catch up again.”

“Sure, that sounds like fun,” he answers. He turns when a man calls his name from Pour Toujours’s door, waving at him to come back inside. “Hey, if you ever want to hang out or get drinks, text me,” he adds, facing me again.

“Okay,” I say softly.

We hear his name being called again, this time more urgently and with the telltale sign of irritation. “I gotta go,” he says apologetically as he points a thumb behind him.

“Oh yeah,” I answer awkwardly in contrast to Hayden’s natural confidence. “I’ll see you around.”

“See ya,” he calls as he jogs back toward the restaurant. I watch as the man who was calling his name swats the back of Hayden’s head before he walks through the door.

“Who was that?” José’s voice is full of curiosity and insinuation. “And why haven’t I met him before?”

“We went to high school together. I haven’t talked to him since we graduated, and I ran into him on Friday,” I answer, resuming my steps toward Las Tres Vientos. “My sister invited him when she had her little party on Friday.”

“He’scuuute,” he exclaims, dragging the last word as he quirks his brows.

I roll my eyes at him as we round the corner. My stomach rumbles once again when my eyes land on the mauve sign embellished with a margarita glass and a cactus. I think about salty tortilla chips and spicy salsa while pushing away the thoughts of Hayden’s attractiveness and our second run-in in less than a week.

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