Page 10 of Mixed Signals
“Huh.”
“Yeah.” He looks like he wants to open his door and roll right out of this car. He releases a sigh from the very depths of his soul. “I think I’m—I think I might be too much. For some people.”
Something in his voice loops around my chest and squeezes. “Too much?”
Pink lights up his cheeks again and climbs all the way to the tips of his ears. “I have trouble reading cues. I get ahead of myself, probably. The last woman I dated, she told me I was a nice guy. But she said it like it was a bad thing. Alex tells me I’m a doormat in relationships, that I put people on a pedestal they don’t necessarily deserve, but—I don’t know. I don’t think seeing the best in someone is a bad thing. I don’t think being nice is a bad thing, either.”
“It’s not.” I think about that time he gave a tiny little girl his untouched croissant after she dropped her cake pop on the ground right outside the bakehouse and burst into tears. The way he got down on one knee so he could wipe her tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “Being nice is the best thing.”
He shrugs like he wants to disagree. I feel that like a pluck to my heart. Caleb shouldn’t change a thing about himself, his kindness especially. I frown at his profile, the clench of his jaw.
He shouldn’t be wasting his time on crumbs either.
We rumble past the Inglewild town sign, an old faded thing with hand painted lettering.Home. Finally.
The stars are cast like gemstones across the night sky, brighter now that we’re with the grass and the trees and the fields. I think about Caleb and I think about me, the both of us stumbling through our respective love lives.
“What a pair we make,” I say, just for us and the moonlight. “We really have no idea what we’re doing, huh?”
“It’s nice to know that I’m not alone in the struggle.” He tilts his head to the side, thoughtful. “Maybe that’s the answer.”
“You’re absolutely right,” I say with a nod. “Let’s drown our feelings in dessert.”
“That is … not what I said.”
“Oh.” That must have been what I was thinking about. I spent the last half of my date with Bryce daydreaming about what I’d eat when I got home. Chocolate cake with a thin mint drizzle. Strawberry shortcake and ice cold lemonade. Peach cobbler. Blueberry crumble. My options are limitless.
Caleb drums his fingers against the steering wheel. That damn Hawaiian shirt stretches over his bicep again. Thank you, Alex Alvarez, for your commitment to a theme. “Maybe we should date each other.”
My grin falters. I probably look like one of those freeze frame photos you get at the end of a roller coaster—the shot after that first big plunge. A little bit delighted and slightly confused. Kind of terrified. I was never prepared for those pictures as a kid.
I’m not prepared for Caleb’s suggestion either.
“Are you—” Something cold steals over my chest and presses down on my lungs. “Are you making fun of me?”
“What? No!” His eyes dart between me and the road. Thankfully we’ve slowed to a crawl within town limits. “No, Layla. I am not making fun of you. Think about it for a second.”
“I’m thinking about it.” And coming up blank. I’m not exactly sure how he arrived atwe should datefromwow, we’re both really bad at this.
Caleb’s face falls at my lackluster response. “Is it that unbelievable of an idea? To date me?”
No. Maybe? Okay, probably yes. I have never once entertained the idea. Not for a fraction of a second. My rule about dating in town, certainly. But, also …
He’s Caleb. The guy who comes into my bakeshop and hits his elbow on my counter display. The guy who leans up against my counter with his legs crossed at the ankles and makes dumb jokes about donuts. He has always been firmly—perfectly—in the acquaintance column. A friend, even. I’ve never once considered exploring anything else with him.
But could I?
“It’s not you,” I offer and he huffs a sound that should be a laugh but sounds too self-mocking to contain any humor. “Caleb. You caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”
“That’s fair,” he concedes. His shoulders relax from where they’re pressed by his ears with a gusting breath. “I was just thinking. We’re both fed up with dating. It could be like a—like a social experiment.”
A laugh bursts out of me, bright and loud. “Just what every woman wants to hear.”
He tosses a grin in my direction and okay, maybe it’s not such an insane idea. To date Caleb. Experimentally date Caleb? Whatever this is. “Wouldn’t it be easier, though? To go on a date and get actual feedback? Maybe we can both figure out what we’re doing wrong.”
“If you suggest a survey, I might punch you in the face.”
“If I suggest a survey, I might punch myself in the face.”
