He stayed in the hall, holding the door open but not invading my space without an invitation, which I was not planning to give him.
Once I was ready, we made our way down the hallway side by side. He kept watching me out of the corner of his eye, a wry grin on his lips, and when I’d catch him, he’d look away guiltily.
Even as I went, I felt ridiculous. I didn’t understand my own fascination with the kid. Because that’s what he was—a child. Just a handful of years older than Dylan. So, why was I letting myself be captivated by his frat-boy charm and winning smile? He wasn’t exactly my type. The confidence he exuded, the sheer joy in his personality, was so far opposite from what I’d gotten with Peter. Maybe that was the appeal.
For an hour, with my new hair and my new life, I could pretend to be someone else.
We made it outside into the parking garage, and he held my door open for me, shutting it carefully after I was inside.
On our way out of the garage, he spoke finally, “So, any preferences?”
“Your choice.”
“Fair enough… Are you thinking fast food or a restaurant?”
I pulled my shirt away from my chest, staring down at the small stain near the hem. Why hadn’t I wanted to change, again? “Fast food, I guess.” My stomach growled at the thought. I wasn’t sure how long it had been since I’d eaten. “I’m starving.”
“Fast food it is.” He bobbed his head back and forth, turning right. “So, tell me about yourself.”
“Why don’t you tell me about yourself first?” I pressed.
He switched lanes, the muscle in his bicep twitching in a way that made me wonder if he was flexing. I looked away.
“Well, what do you want to know?”
“What brought you to Nashville?”
“That’s an easy one. Work.”
“What do you do? You’re not in banking anymore, right?”
“You remembered?” He seemed pleased. “I’m a nurse, actually. I worked at a bank to get me through school, and I just graduated. A buddy of mine works at a hospital here. He put in a good word.”
I couldn’t deny the shock I felt. “A nurse? That’s impressive.”
“Thanks. It’s no big deal. What about you? What do you do at the bank?”
“I…” Truth was, I didn’t know anymore. Did I even still have a job? “I’m a manager.”
“Oh, nice. That’s crazy.” We were both quiet for a moment. Then, he asked, “So, what are you escaping from in that hotel room?”
I paused, trying to decide what to tell him. Not the truth.
“Too personal?” he asked, interrupting my internal contemplation.
“Maybe just a little.”
“Okay, cool. No worries. Um”—he clicked his tongue—“let’s see, how about something simple: what’s your favorite movie?”
“The Proposal,” I said without having to think.
“Which one’s that?”
“Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds. It’s a rom-com, you probably haven’t—”
“Oh my god, the one with Betty White, right?” He chuckled. “Classic.”
“What about you? Favorite movie?” It felt nice, losing ourselves in meaningless conversation. If I was being honest, it felt nice to talk to someone. Anyone. It felt like I’d been alone for so long.
“Hm, it’s hard to say. I’m more of a TV guy. I really liked Lost.”
“I haven’t seen that.”
“It’s good.” Every silence was heavy and weighted, filled with awkwardness as we both fought to fill it with small talk. “So, what about your kids? You have…how many?”
“Three.”
“Wow.” He scratched his chin. “How old are they?”
“Are you trying to decide how old I am?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Not really, no. That doesn’t matter to me.”
“They’re teenagers, well the boys are. Maisy, the one you met, she’s eleven…going on thirty,” I said finally with a nervous grin.
“Okay, I’m going to pull my first douchebag card of the night and say you do not look old enough to have teenagers.”
I grinned despite the fact I was pretty sure he’d just called me old in a roundabout way. “Your first card? How many will there be?”
“I’ll try to keep them to a minimum.” He smirked, pointing up ahead as we neared a restaurant. “Is this okay?”