You make a good sidekick, Alex. Sidekick, I said. That hurts. Her smile lingered. Maybe not just a sidekick. By the time we reached her neighborhood, the storm was worse. Trees shook. Water rushed along the curbs. I pulled up in front of her small beige house, porch light glowing through the rain. “You really think it’s smart to drive back in this?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. She watched the rain, then looked at me differently. “If you’re not in a rush, come in for dinner. I have pasta.” I said yes before my brain caught up. Inside, her house felt warm and calm. soft lights, paintings on the walls, books and plants everywhere. It felt lived in. She handed me a dry shirt and put me on chopping duty in the kitchen.We cooked shoulderto-shoulder, laughing when we bumped into each other. The smell of garlic filled the room. We ate by the window, watching rain slide down the glass. The conversation drifted from work to old stories to dreams we never shared at the office. When we finished cleaning up, it was late. The storm still roared.
That’s when she stood in the living room looking from the door to the couch and made a choice. You really shouldn’t drive in this, she said. Why don’t you just stay here tonight? My heart slammed against my ribs. I met her eyes and nodded. I’ll stay. Then the words slipped out before I could stop them. But I’m not sleeping on the sofa.
The words hung between us longer than I expected. I could hear the rain hitting the roof, steady and loud, like it waswaiting for her answer, too. Emma didn’t move at first. She just looked at me, her eyes searching my face, trying to figure out if I was joking or if I had crossed a line I couldn’t step back from.
You’re not, she said slowly, sleeping on the sofa. My throat felt dry, but I didn’t look away. I mean, I added quickly. You take the bed. I’ll take the floor. That couch is too short. I’ll wake up broken. For half a second, her lips pressed into a straight line. Then she laughed. Not loud, not forced. Just a soft laugh that released all the tension at once.
She picked up a pillow and tossed it at my chest. You scared me for a second, she said. I thought you were being very bold. I caught the pillow, my face hot. I’m not that brave. Her smile softened. Not yet, she said, so quiet I almost missed it. She pulled the sofa bed out anyway, smoothing the sheets and tossing a blanket on top.
