Page 84 of Lily In The Valley
I met his eyes. “She’s not supposed to be.”
He looked like he wanted to say something more. But instead, he leaned back in the booth and watched me like I was a song he used to love but still knew the words to. He studied me for a moment longer, then said, “I’ve been trying to be okay. To move on. But some people leave their imprints, no matter how hard they try not to.”
I let a pause whistle between us before responding.
“I’m in therapy,” I said, softly. “I’m trying to be better.”
“You already are.” The look he gave me; I felt in my ribs.
I exhaled.
“Can we start over?” I asked.
“Like reset?” he asked.
I smiled. “Yes.” When he smiled back, my stomach flipped like it did when we were sitting in my grandmother’s kitchen so many years ago. The one that made me believe in us before we ever touched.
“Then yeah,” he said. “We can start over.”
I smiled. “Good. Because my tacos are ready, and with the day I’ve had, I’m starving.”
I slid out of the booth and made my way to the counter, the scent of grilled meat and warm tortillas curling around me like honey on sopapillas. The worker handed over my tray, and I laughed to myself at the extra handful of napkins they added.
As I returned to the table, a familiar pulse of beat thumped low from the speakers. The brassy notes of trumpets and syncopated drums infused the small restaurant with a burst of energy. I bounced back to the booth, then slid in and began eating.
Khalil grinned wide, raising a brow. “You know what time it is?”
I shook my head. “Forget it. I’m eating.”
“Nope,” he said, standing and holding out his hand. “You need to dance. Work up a real appetite. The tacos will be here when we’re done, Lily-girl.”
That damn nickname. My cheeks warmed. My heart fluttered. I glanced around us. The restaurant was nearly empty, save for a couple tucked in the corner and a cook mopping in the back. There wasn’t a dance floor in sight, just a small gap of space between our booth and the tables a few feet away.
When I stood, he pulled me into him, one hand at my waist, the other catching my wrist and swirling me around. Thetequila-warmed laugh that escaped my belly shocked my ears. Baby girl hadn’t heard the sound in months.
“What you know aboutSuavemente?” he asked, his lips near my ear as we swayed in sync.
“Boy hush.” I giggled out. “You don’t even know what the word means.”
“Bet I do,” he said, cocky and sure. “Dare me to show you.”
“Tell Tasha to show you.” I rolled my eyes, but when he dipped me a little too low and brought me back up, holding me firm against his chest, I couldn’t breathe.
We were too close.
The bass vibrated between us, but it wasn’t the music that made my skin tingle. He stared down at me, licking his lips, his thumbs caressing my spine. I couldn’t look away. With the way he held me and the hypnotic caress of the music, the feelings I still had for him made their way to the forefront of my heart sharp, steady, and impossible to ignore.
I pulled away first. “I’m starving.”
He let me go, but not really. Something warm, something waning, something real had passed between us between each vocal trill and exclamation made by the singer.
We spent the next couple hours learning each other while basking in our history. Shared laughs, stories, and a few more appetizers. It felt good for things to be nice and easy again, like the world had paused just long enough to give us back the version of us that didn’t hurt.
Eventually, his phone buzzed. He glanced down. Pressed his lips together. “I should head out.” His eyes lingered on mine like he didn’t really want to.
I nodded, trying not to show the sting that settled behind my ribcage. We walked out, side by side, quiet again, but not in the way we were when he first walked in. A soft breeze wound its way through the late-evening air, holding its breath just forus. The sidewalk buzzed under the streetlamps turning on now that the sun was setting. Our shadows cut across the storefront windows as we closed the distance to the nearing car lot. I felt his eyes on me. The ones that saw through the version of myself I worked hard to curate.
“I’m glad you’re home, Kelly,” he said softly, then gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
