Page 66 of The Comeback Summer

Before I can respond, he leans in and kisses my forehead. His lips are warm against my skin, and it takes all my strength not to take his face in my hands and guide his mouth to mine.

“Think about what I said, okay?” he tells me as he straightens up. “No pressure. No rush. I’ll wait.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me breathless, late for a date, with a decision to make.

Twenty-Three

LIBBY

Hannah’s date with Adam is tomorrow, and my stomach has been in knots all day. The whole evening is going to be filled with so many potential land mines—if she says or does anything that contradicts our conversations, he’ll know she’s not me. That I’m not her.

For all the other dates, I’ve emailed Hannah a list of bullet points about each guy. But since there are three weeks of chat to cover, I decided we should do this one over dinner.

“Something smells good,” Hannah says, coming out of the bathroom after her post-run shower. Her hair is wrapped in a towel and she smells like the mango bodywash she’s used since high school.

“I hope it tastes good,” I tell her as I give the zoodles a quick stir.

“What are we going to watch while we eat?” Hannah asks, opening the drawer to get out the silverware.

“I was actually thinking we could talk,” I tell her.

A fork falls out of her hand, landing with a clang in thedrawer. I feel her eyes on me, so I turn and offer what I hope is a reassuring smile.

“It’s nothing bad. I just want to tell you about the guy you’re meeting tomorrow.”

Hannah looks relieved. “Is this the guy who’s had you smiling the last few days?”

The last few weeks.Not that she needs to know that.

“He’s funny,” I say, hoping she doesn’t notice I’m not exactly answering her question. “I think you’re going to like him.”

“If you say so,” Hannah says. So far, none of her first dates have led to a second date. But at least she hasn’t come home as distraught as she did after that first one.

The air fryer beeps and I transfer the shrimp to the serving bowl before bringing the spicy peanut zoodles to the table, where the cucumber salad is already plated in individual blue-and-white bowls. I have fortune cookies for dessert, since I decided to go all in on a Chinese theme. Even though it’s just a Thursday night dinner for two, it’s still fun to make an occasion out of it.

“So, tell me about this guy,” Hannah says as she takes a seat.

I smile. There are so many adjectives I could use to describe Adam: cute, charming, funny, caring, humble, sensitive, and a word that’s something kind of like loyalty, but more than that. A quality in a person who puts his family’s needs before his own. Altruistic, maybe?

“He’s a chef,” I tell Hannah, figuring it’s safe to start with the basics. “He runs a diner in Wicker Park that’s been in his family for generations.”

“Hmm,” Hannah says, looking up. “Zoodles are good, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Luck of the draw—I picked a random recipe on Pinterest. Didn’t even check the reviews first.”

“Your bravery knows no bounds,” she teases.

“Maybe I’ll write about it in my journal tonight.”

Hannah rolls her eyes. “Libs, the journal is for your feelings, not your recipes.”

I don’t feel like trying to explain how it all seems tied together in my head, so I shrug it off and get back to the subject at hand.

“Anyway,” I say. “Your date tomorrow night. With Adam.”

“Yes, tell me more about this NJB,” she says, using the acronym for a nice Jewish boy.

“I sent you an email with some of the things we’ve talked about,” I tell her. “He’s chatty, so we’ve covered a lot of ground...”

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