Chapter 101
The drive back from the farmer’s market is a strange kind of quiet, the type that feels more comfortable than awkward, even though neither of us is speaking. Mike’s driving, but I can feel the tension between Harley and me. She’s sitting there, beside me, her hands comfortably clasped together on her lap, and the world feels too small with her so close. Every so often, my gaze drifts to her, and I can’t help but notice how her thoughts seem just as tangled as mine.
I want to reach for her. I want to touch her and reassure her in some way. But after everything that’s happened, I know pushing too far, too fast, might send her running. I’ve learned that much from her body language already.
She looks…unsettled. No, more than that–she’s on edge. I can see it in the way she avoids meeting my eyes, how she leans back in the seat just a little too far, like she’s trying to put distance between us after our sexual tension at the picnic table, even though we’re right here, close enough to touch.
I’ve been here before. Not with her, not like this. But I’ve been on the edge of something dangerous before–something I couldn’t control. And I refuse to push her into the abyss, even if it means waiting–something I despise doing.
Mike clears his throat as if sensing the shift, but he doesn’t say anything. His usual sense of humor seems to have dissipated, replaced by a knowing calm.
Heading home? he asks after about five minutes, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
Harley’s voice is the one that breaks the silence. Actually, we’re heading to my local grocery store, Mike,” she says, and the gleam in her eyes. makes it clear she’s enjoying this. This strange, normal part of her life that she’s trying to pull me into.
Mike almost chokes on the lemonade she handed him when we got back to the car, at her announcement. I can’t blame him, though. A grocery store isn’t the kind of place I’d ever be caught dead at…but Harley? She seems right at home in a place like that.
She’s still grinning, but I can see her trying to rein it in, like she’s afraid to get too comfortable around me, to let herself enjoy this moment. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but I know one thing for sure she’s not as unaffected by me as she pretends to be–case in point, when we were feeding each other back at the farmer’s market.
“Are you serious?” Mike asks, catching his breath. “You’re taking him to a grocery store?:
Harley chuckles. “Why not? It’s a normal thing to do, right?”
I lean back, studying her face. That’s the thing about Harley. She has a way of making the most mundane, everyday things seem like an adventure. And as much as I’d rather be anywhere else, I can’t deny that the thought of spending time with her–doing something as trivial as grocery shopping–feels oddly…right.
The SUV pulls up to the store, and as Mike parks, I find myself struggling with an urge to touch her. But I hold back, unsure of what exactly she
wants from me.
She steps out first, her hips swaying as she walks toward the entrance. I follow her, my footsteps heavy and deliberate, but I make sure to stay few feet behind, letting her take the lead.
The moment we walk in, I realize how out of my element I am. The smell of freshly baked bread, the sounds of kids running up and down the aisles, the PA system announcing current specials, the fluorescent lighting above–it’s all so…ordinary.
But it doesn’t feel ordinary when she’s with me. Every step she lakes, every glance she throws over her shoulder at me, feels like a step into unknown territory.
She hands me the pushcart, and without thinking, I take it from her. In the first alle, she suddenly bends over to grab a pack of pasta, and her jeans hog her curves in a way that makes my heart rate spike, and I have to look away to avoid making a fool of myself in public.
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