Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103988 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“I wholeheartedly agree,” Natalie replies enthusiastically before tearing off another piece and passing half to me.
“The ratio needs to be carefully considered,” Lindsey says.
“It’s less salt than you think it is. Like just a touch.”
Lindsey grabs her arm in exuberant agreement. “Yes. God, you get it. This is why we’re friends.”
We finish up the pretzel right when we reach the pizza place. It’s technically a restaurant with indoor dining, but they’ve also set up a to-go window where pedestrians can grab pizza by the slice.
“We’ll each have a slice of pepperoni please,” Lindsey says, looking in her purse for her wallet.
I pay before she can find it and then we’re presented with what can only be described as the biggest slices of pizza I’ve ever seen.
“We could have shared this,” Natalie points out, having a hard time corralling her pizza. It hangs off her plate at both ends, and she has no choice but to hold it up and take a massive bite off the side so the cheese doesn’t slide off onto the ground.
“Nuh-uh,” Lindsey says with a shake of her head, already chewing on her first bite. “It’s too good. No sharing.”
We make our way down the sidewalk until we hit Joy Street and then we cross over to sit on the limestone steps that lead down into The Common. The park’s walking paths are lit by black iron lamp posts. The playground in the distance is deserted at this hour, but there are a few runners that sweep past us; a group of teenagers laughing and shouting, jostling each other; and then an older couple, walking slow. They’re unbothered by the pace set by the other parkgoers. The woman is using a wooden cane and leaning heavily on her husband as they walk. He says something and she chuckles, her smile lit by the warm glow emitted by the lamp posts. They stop near us, and the man turns toward the woman then carefully bends down on one knee. I squint, trying to make out what he’s doing, and then I realize with a little chuckle that he’s retying one of her shoelaces that has come undone.
Lindsey’s too busy moaning in delight over her pizza to pay them any attention, but Natalie’s watching them with a curiously amused expression, and when she sees me notice, she offers up a shrug and a half-smile.
“Maybe she has a bad knee like I do.”
I smile and nod.
“Yeah, maybe. Don’t worry, I’ll tie your shoelaces.”
Her smile dims, but her eyes stay locked with mine. The air between us feels instantly charged, like she realizes the gravity of what I just said: that I want us to be together when we’re as old as they are. That I’d be willing to get down on my old creaky knees and take care of her shoelaces just like that man is doing for his wife.
“Are you guys going to kiss or something?” Lindsey asks, leaning forward and popping into my line of sight. My intimate moment with Natalie is gone in the blink of an eye. “’Cause honestly, that’s fine. I’d just like a heads-up or something. I’ll scoot to the other end of the stairs and give you some privacy.”
Natalie lets out a groan tinged with laughter before she stands up to toss the second half of her pizza slice in the trash.
Expectations are killer in a situation like this. I can’t relax the whole walk home because I’m worried about what Natalie is thinking. Lindsey talks a lot and I nod along but can’t seem to contribute anything worthwhile, so she’ll probably text Natalie later and tell her to dump me immediately. What’s with all the nodding?! Is he mute?
At the townhouse, Lindsey calls an Uber even though Natalie and I both encourage her to come up for a nightcap—how I manage to say the “Come on, join us” lie convincingly, I’ll never know. I don’t want her to come up for a drink. I want to push Lindsey into the Uber before it comes to a complete stop. I want to wave bye to her after slamming the door and telling the driver to step on it. Don’t get me wrong, I actually really like Lindsey; it’s just I’d like to press this truce Natalie suggested, find its limits.
After Lindsey’s gone, I unlock the door to the townhouse for us.
“I need to go brush my teeth—pizza breath,” Natalie says when we walk inside. Am I imagining it, or does she sound nervous?
“Yeah, I need a shower anyway. Want to pull something up on the TV if you finish first?”
After she agrees, Natalie heads out into the guest house and I take the stairs two at a time so I can bathe. I had to go straight from the hospital to the pub, and I feel better once I close my eyes and bow my head under the shower stream. The hot water rushes down my back and I lather and rinse off quickly, not wanting to keep her waiting long. After, I throw on an old college T-shirt and some sweats.