Page 47 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

“I haven’t lived with anyone since Cammie before she and Cade moved in together. If living with you means late-night hot dog runs, I’m all in.” I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face even if I tried. It feels good to laugh again, to forget about the usual daily stresses, and to be starting down a new path.

Holding his cup, he taps it to mine on the table. “Here’s to new traditions.” We both sip, his already gone, the ice screeching in protest. When I take a bite, Rad inhales his hot dog in three bites.Such a guy.“This eases the pain of working late.”

The early spring night is cool enough to keep warm in my sweatshirt, but I still shiver, not from the weather but from an excitement that wriggles up my spine. “I feel rebellious being out this late. I’m usually curled up in bed reading or asleep with the TV on by this hour.”

With Steve, I would have been listening to a lecture about how irresponsible I was being on a work night. I don’t miss those lectures about everything. I don’t misshim.

We may not be on a date, but sitting here with Rad has been the highlight of my week. I think I judged him all wrong. He’s still dressed for work sans jacket and tie, but he fits in withthe casual vibe of the restaurant as though he belongs. I say, “I always thought you were more uptight.”

Amusement widens his eyes. “Most people do.”

“I’ve seen you relaxed at the beach, and we’ve been to hundreds of parties together over the years. You’re one of my friends, someone who easily makes my top six.”

He chuckles. “I’ve earned that sixth spot.”

Reaching over, I cover his wrist with my hand. “I’m only teasing.”

“It’s probably true, though, and that’s okay, Tealey. I’m willing to work my way to the top.” There is nothing innocent or bashful about that smirk. I’m dead. Gone to heaven . . . or maybe this is hell. Considering one of my “friends,” my sixth closest to be exact, just told me he’s working his way to the top of my list and then killed me dead with a smile that could land me in his bed . . . Yeah, Rad Wellington knows exactly what he’s doing using that loaded weapon on unsuspecting victims like myself.

“I, uh, um, oh my . . .” He leaves me stumbling over basic English, so I use a napkin to wipe the drool from my chin and then shove the hot dog in my mouth because nothing I say right now will make any sense anyway.

“Since we’re on the subject of friends, I’ve been thinking about the unique opportunity we’ve been given.”

I take a quick sip of soda. “Oh, yeah?”

“To strengthen our relationship. Not that it’s weak or anything, but?—”

“It’s okay. I know what you meant. What’s the opportunity?”

“We have a chance to really get to know each other. We’re both single and work way too much. The little free time we have will probably be when we see each other at home.”

“I’m following.” As I finish my hot dog, I think about all the ways this opportunity could go, filling in blanks that aren’t evenon the table. Pulling my head out of the gutter, I say, “We could spend some of that time together.”

“Take tonight. There’s no pressure or dress code. No expectation or?—”

“Demands. We get to be ourselves.”

He nods, looking at me like he believes in me. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone look at me like that and even longer since someone felt that way.Other than my mom, of course.“That’s just what I was thinking. You’re easy?—”

“Slow your roll with that rumor, Counselor.”

Chuckling, he says, “Easy to be with.”

I laugh, the corners of my mouth lifting as I tilt my chin down. “Not much better.”

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he says, “I’m blowing it.”

“No, you’re not.” I reach over and take his hand. The heat between us causes me to note our connection before I set it on the table. “You’re doing just fine.” The thumping in my chest is loud enough for the entire city to hear as I try to swallow the nerves that have crept in.

When I look at him, he seems to be having the same struggle. His soulful brown eyes lift to meet mine, and then his hand reaches over. Taking my hand in his, he says, “This is the start of . . .” He gulps. “Of a great friendship.” Snapping his cup up, he stands. “More soda?”

Shaking my head, I’m left bewildered by what just happened. The sentiment is still spinning in my head and chest. Was he suggesting more than friendship there? That’s impossible. This is Rad I’m talking about. Mr. I don’t do relationships.No,I’m reading the situation all wrong, interjecting a fantasy of mine where it doesn’t belong.

Rad Wellington is off-limits—if not for our friendship, then because of our living arrangement. With so much going on in my life—from my living situation to my job and relying on his offerto stay with him—I can’t screw this up by confusing his kindness for flirting.

Scooping up the trash, he tosses it in the bin, and then says, “Guess we should?—”

“Yep.” I stand, and we walk toward the exit. “Call it a night.”

---