Page 41 of Yours, For Good

Javier had a classically attractive look, like a greek statue someone had dressed in fine, modern garments. People who met the European beauty standard weren't always my type, but Javier seemed to be an outlier in many ways— hot, rich, kind, thoughtful… it made sense I could appreciate his aesthetic proportions. The depth of his eyes. His reserved smiles.

Wanting to keep him as a friend made even more sense. I had never had a long term relationship of any kind, except for my mom. Romantic relationships failed way more often than platonic ones, and much more spectacularly. I never wanted the grief and heartbreak of losing someone I truly cared for again. I could have a thrilling life, fulfilling all my needs through friendships, found family, and one night stands. My body and my heart didn't have to match to coexist.

I let my eyes wander to him again. Weak snowflakes floated in the air, the kind that would evaporate just as they touched the ground. A couple of them fell on his shoulders and melted instantly, but one fell in his hair and remained stubbornly there for several seconds. He didn't seem to notice.

Christmas had been almost a week earlier, and yet the scene looked so holiday-core it pulled a smile out of me. I briefly allowed myself the fantasy that this was a made-for-TV Christmas movie, where we all knew the hero and the heroine would kiss at the end. In the film screen of my mind, I imagined it wasn't midday but the evening, and the strings of light above Javier were on and bright and reflecting off his hair. He looked hot in that movie, too.

I shook my head at myself. Romanticizing the scene outside did nothing to keep things chaste and amicable, so I went ahead and paid for our dessert. That was a friendly gesture on my part, and a way to remind myself where Javier and I stood.

I couldn't risk the friendship I was developing with Javier, just because I liked who he was as much as how he looked.

He entered just as I gathered our coats.

"Ready to go?" He grabbed my jacket from my hands, and helped me put it on like a gentleman.

I quickly checked my mental files. I was pretty sure that was a first for me.

He even went as far as to get my hair out from under the collar, his fingers cold from being outside. That's why I shivered.

"Give me a sec to pay—" he started, putting on his own coat.

I didn't help him. "I paid already. We're good."

His eyes snapped to mine. "What? Nora."

"Javier."

"Why did you pay?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

His eyes narrowed, just as his fingers buttoned up his jacket. "It just… feels wrong to have anyone pay for anything when I'm around."

I put my scarf on and tucked it inside my coat, and he guided me through the door with a hand low on my back. We made our way out together.

"Javier, have you thought about going to therapy to deal with your privileged guilty conscience?"

His laugh exploded. A few birds took flight at the sudden noise.

I stopped in my tracks. I gazed up his tall frame, taking in the grin still on his face. Those crinkling eyes I ador— I appreciated. "What did I say? I didn't think it was that funny."

"I have thought of therapy. I still go a few times a year. That's where I learned to journal about my guilty conscience."

I frowned at him, confused. He shook his head and started walking again. I followed him.

"Everything okay with your friends?" I asked him.

"Yes. Great, actually. Gabe wanted to make sure I attend the next board meeting personally— he and his family own a big conglomerate where I'm one of the biggest investors. He had some last minute news about a transition plan for his dad's retirement. Long story short, we're going to surprise another one of our friends with a promotion much earlier than expected."

We turned toward the beach, if the mental maps I had built of the town during the past week were right. I would know within three blocks if I was correct, when we turned right, walked a few hundred feet, and met the small strip of sand that became a dead end to the road.

"How many people are in this friend group?" I asked.

"It started with four of us— and now Gabe's partner and his sister always join us, and Max's wife. We're all practically adopted by Gabe's parents, too."

"They are the people you call family, right?"

He nodded. "They're my people."