Page 9 of Switch
Aaand, this is the moment when things will get uncomfortable.Avoiding the head tilts and all the sympathetic looks is what’s kept me home this past year.Everyone’s sorry for my loss.I know.
I’m braced for condolences, not expecting it when PJ slams his menu shut and jumps to his feet.“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
There’s that knowing grin again.It’s the smile of someone who has a secret.I could swear he knows I have one too.
“You don’t want to eat here?”
PJ’s eyes narrow again.“You don’t want to eat here.”He grabs my hand and, with a rough tug, pulls me out of my chair.His grip is confident.Surprisingly firm.“I mean, am I wrong?The place that reminds you of your wife who died?Feels like the sort of situation that’ll help your therapist upgrade his pool house.”
My heart’s beating a little faster.I’m strangely hesitant to pull my hand from his, but I do, dropping some cash on the table to cover my beer.Too much, knowing my brother has already given the restaurant a deposit, but I know what servers make and I can afford to leave a healthy tip.
“You’re right,” I say as I follow him out.“This was Wes’s idea.I never would have picked this place.”
“Wes?”PJ stops at the door, and I wind up running into the back of him.
My hands brace on his hips.I was right.My chin rests perfectly on the top of his head.He’s solid and warm, and he smells amazing.Something like coconut, but it’s subtle too.The sort of scent you can’t appreciate unless your nose is practically brushing a person’s skin.It takes me longer than it should to pull away.
Maybe ithasbeen too long since I’ve touched someone.
“Sorry about that.Uh.My brother.Who set us up?”
“Right, right.”He’s distracted, navigating around people outside the restaurant door and scanning up and down the street.“Hey, let’s head downtown.They’ve got all those food trucks on Friday and Saturday nights.Maybe some Midnight Cookies for dessert.Love that place.The walk’s not bad from here.”He grabs my hand again, pulling me out the door.
I pause for a step, feeling like I should say something.Maybe let go of this near-stranger’s hand.Except his grip is so reassuring.He’s got long fingers.Callused palms.These are hands that do manual labor.
What would that rough skin feel like against mine?I’m stunned enough by the thought that I almost walk into another customer as we leave.
I can’t deny liking the way he takes charge of the situation.Wes would call it rude or controlling, but I often find decisions stressful.When Marina was alive, she decided what we did and how we did it.She cared.I didn’t.
I’d forgotten how tiring it can get, having to choose so often.I’ve been a little…rudderless, since she died.
I don’t need a rudder with this guy.He’s making it so easy for me.
PJ grabbing my hand and rattling off food options while I follow along keeps my thoughts from spinning, keeps me from wondering if things are going well, if I’m saying the right things, if I’m pleasing him.
Because I’ll care.I will.Even if I get to the end of the night and we have nothing in common and I don’t want to see him again?I’ll still lie awake reviewing every misstep, every possible social blunder, or any moment when I may have scratched an itch on my nose, but it possibly looked like I was doing something else.
My brain can be relentless.
“…about a year ago, to help revitalize downtown.You’ve never been here?”
I shake my head.In recent years, I’ve hardly been anywhere other than work and home.
We arrive at an area filled with people and the scent of food, illuminated by a symphony of string lights.
“Tell me what you want, Fallon.”
There’s an unexpected tightening in my gut, though I don’t think he meant it the way my body’s interpreting it.
“Not sure I’m too hungry.”Eating is a chore these days.More decisions to make.“Maybe you could suggest something?”
The scents of cooking food surround us, savory spices mingling with sweet notes, and even the richness of chocolate and coffee.My stomach lets out a sudden growl that could be heard at the beach.
PJ’s smile turns almost predatory.“Someone’s a filthy liar.”
Maybe he didn’t mean for that to sound dirty?Still, my body is pumping an uncomfortable mix of anxiety and arousal through my bloodstream.
And guilt.Let’s not forget the guilt.It’s practically dripping down my spine.
