Page 105 of Forbidden Fruit
“You leave me no choice. Get up, shower, do something with your hair, and let’s go eat something amazing.”
I hesitate. Then sigh. “Fine. Just dinner. Nothing else.”
His grin stretches across his face, bright and smug and impossible not to return. “Nothing more. Scout’s honor.”
For the first time in days, I take my time in the shower, letting the hot water melt some of the tension from my body. I scrub every inch of my skin, as if I can wash away everything I’m feeling. I untangle the bird’s nest that is my hair and shampoo it until it’s soft and clean. Afterward, I smooth lotion over my skin, skipping makeup, but feeling a little more like myself. Small steps.
Dylan takes me to the Italian restaurant where we had our first date nearly two years ago. The familiar scent of garlic, basil, and fresh bread greets us the moment we walk in, and to my surprise, I smile.
We settle into a cozy booth in the back. Warm lighting glows above us and faint music hums from the speakers.
“You remember that night? We were sitting right over there.”
I follow his gaze and laugh quietly. “Yeah. God, we were such kids back then.”
“No kidding.” He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I spent the whole day trying to convince myself you weren’t out of my league.”
“And I remember how awkward it was… until you tried to tell me a joke.”
“Tried?” he repeats, mock-offended.
“Well, it was terrible. But I laughed.”
“Exactly.” His smile widens. “Mission accomplished.”
To my own surprise, I laugh again, really laugh, and it startles me how much I needed to.
“I miss that,” Dylan says softly. “I miss seeing you laugh.”
His words hang in the space between us like a thread.
Then, quietly, “Why didn’t we work out?”
The question stops me. I glance down, tracing the rim of my water glass with a fingertip.
“We were eighteen. New to the city. We didn’t want to be tied down, so we decided to stay friends.”
“You decided,” he corrects gently. “I went along with it.”
“Dylan…”
He shakes his head and offers a bittersweet smile. “It’s okay. Like I said, you were out of my league. I figured being your friend was better than not having you at all. But after that first date, I pictured walking you home… you kissing me goodnight… me asking for a second date. And you saying yes.”
“But instead, I friend-zoned you,” I murmur, guilt washing over me.
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. I look up into eyes that have always been kind.
And for a moment, I wonder if maybe, maybe, it’s time I stop chasing the impossible.
“I don’t want to ruin what we have,” he says. “But I needed you to know how I feel.”
I nod. “Thank you. For telling me.”
When the check comes, I grab it before he can. “You paid last time we were here. It’s my turn.”
I stand, and he follows. Outside, the air is cool and quiet as we walk to his car.
The drive back is peaceful. When we pull up to our building, I pause at the doorway. “This is me,” I say, offering a small smile.
