“T-together?”
“Preferably. I mean, we can sit at different tables if you want? I hate to think I’m that terrible of company.”
“No! No. That’s not what I mean. I—I mean—we don’t really—know each other … Do we?” She searched his face for confirmation.
Dan let out a soft laugh. “No, we don’t,” he confirmed, ducking his head and running a palm across his neck. “Which is kind of why I asked.”
Her eyes bounced around the room, unable to rest on one thing, as the familiar pulse of anxiety started in her stomach and radiated outward to her limbs.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to eat with him, it was more that she didn’t know if she physically could. The whole exercise had been a teaching one, a situation that provided her confidence and a constant flow of conversation. Helping him had automatically afforded her value and didn’t require her to slide real pieces of herself across a table in an exchange of emotional currency.
Sharing a meal tilted the dynamic in a way she didn’t think she was capable of functioning in, not when he made her nerves feel like they’d been plunged into a socket with a metal fork.
“I have to study,” she blurted out. This was the truth. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she felt panic tickle at her rib cage.
“Who doesn’t?” He shrugged. “But you also need to eat. Fuel that big ole brain.” He tapped his finger lightly on her temple, and Harper felt like she was going to pass out.
All she could do was stare at him, paralyzed by the equally strong forces of want and fear. It wasn’t a new sensation; she was constantly immobilized by warring impulses until anxiety eventually won out and she retreated from the tempting distraction.
But as Dan smiled at her—a look that was warm and soft and encouraging—want gained the upper hand.
“Come on,” he finally said, grabbing both of their bags and slinging them over one shoulder. He took her hand and led her toward the exit.
“Where are we going?” she asked nervously, but she didn’t try to take her hand away.
CHAPTER 5
DAN
Stepping out of school was like stepping out of a bubble. No one was fully human under the fluorescent lights of the clinic. Emotions and personalities were largely unzipped and hung up outside the school doors, allowing only the callused skin of intellectuals to enter. Leaving at the end of the day left you feeling naked and exposed, blinking at the world around you and trying to remember how to be a person.
Dan lifted the collar of his coat against the wind and jammed his frozen fingers into his pockets. Glancing at Harper, he felt the delicate thread of their newfound closeness fraying. He wasn’t sure how to navigate the awkward reality of being strangers in the real world.
Her eyes danced around the street, unwilling to land near him for too long. Dan was glad to know he wasn’t alone in his cluelessness about what came next. He was struck by the overwhelming impulse to do something ridiculous, like lick the tip of her nose or say something stupid just to make her laugh. He wanted to watch the nervous energy drain from her face and see it bloom with humor.
Harper cleared her throat, and he realized how long he’d been staring at her. Super chill, Dan. Really killing it.
“Do you like Jewish delis?” he asked. “Like hoagies and stuff? I’ve heard of this great place on Eighth and Sansom I’ve wanted to try.”
Because, obviously, big greasy sandwiches were the epitome of romance and seduction.
Harper’s eyes creased with a smile. “Dan, my last name is Horowitz. I don’t think it gets any more Ashkenazi than that. Of course I like Jewish delis. Are you talking about Martin’s?”
“You’ve been?”
She laughed. “Only a few times a week for the past four years. Martin, the owner, knows my rabbi back home.”
“That’s a small world.”
Harper shrugged. “Jewish geography is alive and well. Let’s go. I’m freezing.”
They walked the few blocks in companionable silence, the sharp bite of December wind offset by Harper’s warm energy.
Harper beat him to the door and held it open for him. Dan smiled and stepped inside, the blast of heat in the shop making him strip off his coat while the smell of pickles and fresh bread had his mouth watering. A surly man whom Dan assumed to be Martin was hunched over the counter.
Martin shot Dan a dirty look as he walked in, but straightened and offered a toothy grin when Harper followed behind. Dan wouldn’t be surprised if she had that effect on every man.