Page 37 of Gatsby's Starlet
The bike went the other direction.
I held the new route for a block, checked the mirror twice more, then cut back toward where I'd meant to go. Street behind us stayed empty.
It was nothing.
Evie leaned in slightly after another block. “You sure everything’s okay?”"
“Yeah. Sorry.”
She didn't say anything to that. Just stayed where she was, and after a while her cheek dropped against my shoulder, barely,just the weight of it, and I let the road go quiet and didn't think about the mirror again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DINNER HAD GONEtoo fast.
I noticed it the second we stepped back out into the night, like something had slipped through my fingers while I wasn’t paying attention, the warmth of the diner still clinging to me, the sound of music and soft conversation fading behind us as the door shut, leaving only the quiet stretch of the parking lot and then the growl of the bike as we rode back to my car.
I didn’t want it to be over yet.
That thought came without hesitation, without the usual second-guessing I was so good at, and it sat there stubborn and sure as Gatsby walked beside me, close enough that I could feel the presence of him without him touching me, like he didn’t need to.
“You always this quiet after dinner?” he asked, glancing down at me after I got off his bike.
I shook my head slightly. “No.”
“Just with me?”
I glanced up at him then, catching the hint of something in his expression, teasing, but not entirely, and felt a small smile pull at my mouth. “Maybe I’m trying to seem mysterious.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re not doing a great job.”
“That’s disappointing.”
“Yeah,” he said, opening the door of my car before I could reach for it, his hand resting against the top of the frame as he looked at me. “You’re doing something else.”
My brows lifted slightly. “Oh?”
His gaze held mine for a second longer than necessary, something steady settling behind it. “Yeah.”
He didn’t explain it, and he didn’t need to, which somehow made it worse, or maybe better, I couldn’t quite tell, so instead of getting into the car I leaned lightly against the side of it, the metal still holding the day’s warmth beneath my palm as the quiet between us stretched out in a way that didn’t feel awkward so much as unfinished, like something waiting to be said but not quite ready yet.
“I had a good time,” I said.
“I know,” he replied, easy as anything.
That pulled a soft laugh from me, my head tipping slightly as I looked at him. “You’re very confident.”
“Not about everything.”
Just about this, he didn’t say it, but I felt it settle between us anyway, certain in a way that made it hard to look away.
The air shifted slightly, something settling between us again, slower this time, more deliberate, like neither of us was pretending not to notice it anymore.
“Friday,” he said after a second. “Come to the clubhouse. Not a full house night. You’ll get the better version of it.”
“The better version?” I asked, tilting my head.
“Less chaos,” he said. “More… real.”
