That . . . was not what I’d been expecting. “Um, what?”
“Sorry. I was just thinking I’d like to ask you to dinner. But I didn’t want to if something was going on between you two.”
Why would he think there was something going on between me and Alex? Had Alex said something? Done something? Or had I? Was I being too obvious? Staring at him too much? Was he staring at me? Even as my brain raced through the possibilities, I realized how ridiculous they were. Did I want Alex to be staring at me? It was like my life was one giant game of Hot or Cold. One minute I hated him with my entire soul. The next, I was feeling the feels, trying not to swoon over some charming thing he’d said or done.
“Sorry,” Steven said. “Was it wrong to ask? You’ve got this—” He raised a finger and motioned to the deep crease between my brows. “So serious.”
I relaxed my face. “I was just thinking. Why did you think there was something going on with me and Alex?”
“Because he watches your every move,” Steven said. “And he nearly punched Mushroom when he said something about your—”
I held up my hands. “Please don’t finish that sentence. I don’t want to know.”
Steven shrugged. “He seems into you. And I’m not that guy that’s going to infringe on that. If there’s something there, I completely respect it.”
“Why didn’t you ask him this question?”
Steven didn’t even miss a beat. “Because I’m strangely and inexplicably intimidated by the dapper businessman with his fancy car and cuff links. I mean, I know he’s a nice guy. But . . .” He shrugged. “You felt a little more approachable.”
I shot Steven a look. “The dapper businessman? Is that really how you guys see him?”
“Oh, come on. Southern accent aside, you don’t think he seems like he walked out of a Jane Austen novel? He’s just so polished.”
“Wait, wait. You read Jane Austen?”
Steven rolled his eyes. “Why do women always ask that? I studied British Lit in grad school. I’ve read Austen, Bronte, Wolfe, Eliot. Why is everyone so surprised?”
“Steven. You co-host a YouTube show that devoted an entire episode on the flavor profiles of toothpaste-filled donuts.”
He paused. “Fine. Fair point.”
I shook my head. Steven’s graduate degree was definitely worth another conversation, but he had asked me on a date. And he deserved an answer.
“Alex and I are friends,” I said. I forced myself to meet Steven’s gaze. “But I can’t have dinner with you.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “Can I ask why not?”
“It’s complicated. We are just friends, me and Alex. But, there’s history there. We were a thing, and now we’re . . . And I’m just not in a place mentally, you know? Where I can think about dating or, anything, really. I have a lot to figure out.”
“So you’re the ex that—oh.”
“Oh, what?” I asked. Had Alex talked about me?
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” Steven said. “Thanks for being honest with me.”
I smiled but didn’t say anything, struggling to let go of what he’d meant.
“Do you think you and Alex will get back together?” he asked, taking me by surprise.
“What? No.” Even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice.
Steven laughed. “Wow. Way to convince me.”
A blush crept up my cheeks. “It’s not that easy. We’re just so different, you know? And . . .” My words trailed off. Why was I telling him any of this anyway? “Like I said. It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, you already said that,” Steven said. “You guys clearly have something going on though. Everybody senses it. Maybe you need to stop thinking about it and see what can happen. Just jump in. Buck the plan, ignore the outline, trust your gut, and take life as it comes.”
“Wow. That was a lot of clichés in one sentence.”
He grinned. “Things only become clichés because people say them all the time. And if people say things all the time, it must be because they work. Take it from me. As a guy who ended up doing the exact opposite of what he’d always planned for himself, sometimes you have to embrace the unexpected.”
I was pretty sure Steven was only referencing my relationship, or lack of relationship, with Alex, but I wondered if his sage advice couldn’t also be applied to my work life. I’d clung to the idea of working for LeFranc for so long. Even since I’d left, I’d had a hard time imagining a future in fashion without the LeFranc name giving me confidence. But maybe it was time I let go of my LeFranc dreams. I’d walked away from my LeFranc job, yes. But as I watched a pelican swoop down and scoop a fish out of the bay, I realized with startling clarity that I still hadn’t let go of my dreams. And I’d never move forward if I couldn’t well and truly cut myself free.
“You okay?” Steven asked with a warm smile.
I liked Steven. He was completely unexpected. And funny. And he had an adorable dimple in his left cheek that showed up when he smiled big. In a different life, a life where I wasn’t completely hung up on the fact that Steven said Alex stared at me all the time, I would have said yes to dinner. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
“Want to think and run?” he asked. He stood from the bench and offered me a hand, giving me a reassuring squeeze when I slipped my fingers into his.
After my run, I climbed the stairs to my studio and flipped on the light switch at the top of the stairs. I froze. My room was totally different. The red couch was gone; in its place, there was a bed. An actual bed with sheets and pillows and a fluffy duvet. There was an end table with a lamp, and a dresser against the wall, and a chair by the window.
I stood in the middle of the room and turned around in amazement. I’d only been gone an hour. I sank down onto the bed—a bed!—my heart tight in my chest. It had to have been Alex. He was the only one who would have thought to do something this nice. Curse the man. He was making it really hard for me to stay mad at him.
I paused at the top of the stairs. Was that his point? Was he trying to fix things between us?
If he was, did I want the same thing?
I found Alex in the kitchen. Without a word, I crossed to where he stood at the counter and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. The closeness nearly did me in, kicking my senses into a hyperaware state. His scent was familiar, amazing, bone-melting. And his touch. It was like every nerve ending in my body was suddenly on high alert, so that I could instantly identify every single part of me that was in contact with any part of him. The stretch of my arm across his neck and shoulder. My cheek against his chest. It was heady, intoxicating, in the best possible way. He hesitated at first, then slowly raised one arm, wrapping it loosely around my back.
“Thank you,” I said softly, as I pulled away.
Alex furrowed his brow in confusion. “For what?”
“For my room,” I said. “It’s really nice.”
Alex’s face didn’t change. “Dani, it wasn’t me.”
My shoulders fell, heat rising in my cheeks. If it wasn’t him, then that hug was way out of line. I took a step backward, putting some much-needed distance between us, but clung to my conviction a moment longer. “The bed. The table. Everything. It wasn’t you?”