Page 50 of 32 Days in May

I have to keep moving or my knees may turn completely gelatinous and send me tumbling to the ground. I give his fingers a squeeze, then guide his hand to my waist as we move through the crowd. His other hand meets my other hip, and my mind goes blank except for one single thought—what if he pulled me back against him? How would it feel to have his hips against me, his hands pressing into the soft flesh of my hips? A shiver runs through me; I hope he doesn’t notice.

We’re guided to a quiet corner of the second floor, where the music turns to low, groovy Muzak. Up here, the only light comes from votive candles in the center of each table, illuminating couples bent low toward each other, sharing plates of steaming gyoza and tonkatsu.

We drop into our chairs and the hostess leaves us alone.

“It’s no Ernie’s, but it’ll do,” I quip. It’s hard to read Marco’s face in such dim lighting. His expression is usually so clear, painted over his features in broad strokes. The man is mostly incapable of keeping a secret, immediately betrayed by the overactive muscles around his mouth.

Marco laughs, carefully unfolding his napkin. “You can take the girl out of Evergreen . . .”

“Should I order a Twisted Tea?”

“Absolutely. Assert your dominance.”

“Should I ask for a fork, too?”

He winces. “Eh, there’s such a thing as being too down to earth. Let’s start slow with the Twisted Tea.”

I’m failing terribly at keeping my cool. “Since when are you funny?”

Marco throws me a wink. “I’m just trying to keep up with you.”

I meet his eyes full-on for the first time since I walked in. There’s a fire behind his gaze. I think I may be making us both more nervous than we need to be, so I pivot. “Jen sent me a picture of a drawing Emmett did at school today—it’s us on the boat with his dolphin.”

“Really?” His eyes light up and he leans toward me. “Let me see.”

I slide my phone across the table to show him the picture Jen sent me, completely forgetting that the entire exchange culminated in me telling her about tonight, to which she replied: will you tell me if you bang??? pls nadia

“Damn, Jennifer.”

Heat rushes to my ears. Of course he’s snooping. “Can you not read my messages, please and thank you?”

“It was right there! Underneath the picture her kid drew.”

“No excuses.” I take my phone back and make a show of sliding it into my purse.

“Jen, Jen, Jen,” Marco tuts, flipping open his menu. “What are we going to do with you?”

We order potentially way too much food. Pork buns and pickled vegetables to start, chicken katsu with curry sauce, nigiri and sashimi. I ask Marco a million questions about his life, rapid-fire, between bites. He’s gracious with his personal deets, and in the absence of alcohol, carbohydrates relax us back into the slick, cool material of our chairs.

“Siblings?” I ask, biting into my fifth or fiftieth piece of yellowtail tuna sushi.

“An older half sister and a younger half brother,” he replies. We’re both middle children. Very interesting.

“Favorite Evergreen pizza?”

“Genie’s. Duh.” We agree that this is the only respectable answer.

“Biggest fear?” I pause and point my chopsticks at him. “But fun stuff only.”

He laughs, wiping his mouth with the edge of his cloth napkin. “Sure. Tropical bugs. How’s that for fun?”

“Worst sex of your life?” Then, I quickly add: “And I don’t count.”

Now Marco pauses, eyebrows tenting as his gaze drifts to the chandelier hanging over the center of the room. His fingers slide back and forth over the angle of his chin, and I try to not imagine what it would feel like if they carved that exact path over my waist. “Worst sex . . . ever? I guess when I got roped into a weird love triangle with an Instagram fitness model.” Then, for context, he adds: “She was like, twenty-five, which in retrospect was maybe too young for me.”

This one cuts weirdly close to the bone. I hate imagining his tan forearms flexing around some faceless woman. “Too nubile for you?” I tease. I hope you like stretch marks, I think. I can’t even imagine my nude body on display for a man who has almost exclusively dated models and actresses without nearly barfing up my gyoza.

He catches the edge in my voice and looks suddenly quite proud of himself. “Way too nubile. And too blond, yuck.”