Page 39 of Fault Lines
We found our seats in the cool, dark theater. I wrapped a small blanket over my legs, because I knew the air conditioner would be relentless. Nate divided the snacks, acting like a kid at a carnival, tossing candy into his mouth while the previews rolled. I found myself laughing more at Nate’s ridiculous running commentary than at the movie itself. He’d lean close, whispering some off-hand joke, and it was all I could do not to giggle loud enough to get shushed.
By the end, my spirits had lifted. The strangest part was that, for the whole movie, I hadn’t thought about Cam. Not once. I hadn’t checked my phone. I hadn’t wondered what he was doing. I was just myself, in a dark room, having fun with a friend.
We walked out under the theater lights, and I was in no hurry to go home. I didn’t want the night to end—it was too early, and I didn’t want to slip back into silence and empty rooms, not yet.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?” I asked, surprising myself.
I expected him to say no, that he would have plans or work to do, but he just lit up.
“Sure,” he said. “Anywhere in particular?”
“Not really,” I said. “Maybe a drink?”
He grinned. “There’s a place around here. Joe’s. Ever been?”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s nothing fancy,” he said, already moving toward the sidewalk. “We can walk.”
He took my hand as we stepped out under the streetlights. His palm was broad, warm, and I looked down at our joined fingers. Did friends hold hands? I wasn’t sure, but it felt nice. So did Nate, apparently.
“Relax, Livi,” Nate said, squeezing my hand. “I’m not trying to seduce you.”
I startled with a little laugh, both mortified and relieved. Nate grinned as we walked on.
“You’re adorable, you know?” he said.
“I can be a dork sometimes,” I admitted, trying to play it off.
“But the cutest dork,” he replied, his dimple making an appearance. For a moment, I just let myself bask in it—the easy rhythm of our steps, the lightness of the night.
Joe’s Bar & Grill had a red neon sign out front, steady and unassuming. The scent when we walked in was part beer, part burgers, and it made me want to smile. There were TVs on the wall, all tuned in to sports, and a battered jukebox in the corner. Definitely a sports bar. Nate led me to the front, his hand at my back, finding us seats at the bar.
“You brought me to a sports bar?” I teased.
“I like it here,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s quiet, and Tony takes care of me.”
Right on cue, the bartender appeared, drying his hands on a towel. “What’s up, Nate?”
“Tony!” Nate replied, and they shook hands. “Just here with a friend. Two beers on tap?”
Tony poured them without asking for specifics, sliding two glasses toward us. “Welcome to Joe’s. I’m Tony.”
“Olivia,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
Tony looked between us, eyebrows raised. “How do you know Nate?”
I smiled. “I work at his grandfather’s shop. He trained me.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed a little, a spark of surprise. “Did he now? Huh.”
I looked at Nate, and then back at Tony. “Is that strange?”
Tony leaned closer, dropping his voice. “Nate can’t stand working in that shop. He helps out, sure, but he always comes in here after to complain.”
I turned to Nate, eyebrow up. “That true?”
He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “It’s grown on me.”
