Page 8 of Run Home

A server sets down a plate of pan-fried dumplings and a bowl of edamame before asking if we’re ready to order sushi. Without checking if Adrian is ready, I tell the server my two selections, then Adrian orders two different rolls for himself.

“I’m offended you didn’t ask for my recommendations,” Adrian says, hand over his heart.

Mine drops. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about it—I typically know what I like at sushi restaurants and—”

“Sam, it’s fine. I’m only teasing you,” Adrian cuts in, picking up an edamame pod. I dip a dumpling in sauce, then bite off half of it as he asks, “How’s school going?”

After swallowing the dumpling in my mouth, I answer, “It’s awesome. I love it even more than I thought I would. I should only have about a month left until I finish my required hours, and then it’s time to strike out on my own for real. Which is kinda terrifying.”

“You’re gonna kill it,” Adrian says. “I’ll be your first customer.”

Firmly shaking my head, I say, “Absolutely not. I want nothing to do with men’s hair. Give me balayage and sombré all day.”

“Sombré?” Adrian looks confused. “Are you trying and failing to say something in Spanish? Because you know I could help you there,” he adds, then mutters something in Spanish far too rapidly for me to understand even if I were familiar with the language.

I roll my eyes but can’t contain a smile. “You’re impossible. It’s short for ‘soft ombré,’ meaning a more subtle ombré technique of color gradient from dark roots to lighter ends. It’s one of my favorite treatments to do.”

Adrian props his chin in his hand with his elbow on the table, hanging on my every word. Clearing my throat, I say, “But that’s enough about me. Let’s talk about Griffin and Danae.”

His mouth opens to say something but stops. A second later, he says, “What are the wedding plans?”

I lean forward. “I’m on a mission to figure out how to have the ceremony and reception in Griffin’s backyard the way Danae wishes they could,” I begin.

Adrian grimaces. “Outdoors in July? Woof.”

“That’s why it’s a mission,” I emphasize. “I’m investigating air-conditioned tents. Danae really wants an ultra-private ceremony. Which is why I think we should have a phone check station to keep guests from taking photos or videos.”

Adrian bites his lower lip in thought and nods. “Like a coat check but for phones? I like it. Is that my role? I’m the phone bouncer? I’ll start putting in some extra upper-body days at the gym.” He raises his arms, flexing as he clasps his hands behind his head. Despite his very typical clowning around, the movement sparks an atypical reaction in my chest.

“Be serious before I kick you again,” I chide, dismissing my body’s unusual response to his preening. “I don’t need your help planning anything for the wedding. I need your help planning something special for Griffin before the wedding.”

“Bachelor party? Now we’re talking,” Adrian replies. He sits forward again and rubs his hands together. “How outrageous are we thinking?”

“Future-Mrs. West-approved,” I state, and he gives a fake groan. “Not Adrian Ortiz-party-boy-approved.”

A shadow passes over Adrian’s face before he says, “I’m just kidding. I know that’s not Griffin’s style. It’s not even my style anymore. Call me an old man too. Maybe I need a new haircut.”

Our back-and-forth is interrupted by the server setting down plates of sushi in front of us. After pouring soy sauce into the mini bowl and mixing in some wasabi, I eye my sushi rolls to decide which to try first. Adrian watches me eat the selected piece, and I moan as I chew the spicy tuna and crunchy shrimp tempura. “Nothing beats sushi,” I declare, waving my chopsticks in the air. “What did you get?”

“This one is deep fried with crab and mango,” he says. Then he points to a roll that looks to be overflowing with everything. “That one has tempura shrimp but also three different kinds of fish. The thing that takes it over the top, though, is the conch.” He takes a bite of the fancy roll, nodding. “Mm-hmm. It’s next level.”

I crinkle my nose. “You had me until you mentioned the conch.”

“Have you tried it?” Adrian asks after a sip of water.

“Well, no. Isn’t it tough, though?” I ask.

He scoots the plate toward me. “See for yourself.”

Warily, I pick up a piece of the suspicious roll, dipping it in soy sauce. There’s no way to take a hesitant bite of sushi—it’s an all-or-nothing food. Shoving the whole piece in my mouth, I carefully chew.

“I hate you,” I say when I swallow.

Adrian’s eyes dance. “That’s mean.”

“Why did you let me order without telling me to get this one? Shame on you,” I tease. But I push his plate back with genuine envy.

“Now, party for Griffin,” I say, refocusing our conversation. “I want you to take him with you to the All-Star Game. I know he’s completely happy having retired from baseball, but I know he also misses it like he had an arm amputated. Give him a final taste of his old MLB life before they get married.”