She presses her back against the front wall, even though it’s impossible that Josh could see her from this angle.
“—or you’re locked into this through Valentine’s Day. Who are you hiding from?”
“He’s outside.”
Gabe raises his eyebrows and unabashedly takes a look. “Hello, there.”
No reason for nerves. They’d both agreed it was just a case of getting carried away by a national holiday. No big deal. Fine.
And then they hadn’t spoken about it for fourteen days.
“I’ll help you out,” Gabe offers. “Grease the wheels.”
“No. Things are…delicate right now.”
He clears his throat. “Rebounds aren’t supposed to be delicate. Or complicated.”
“This isn’t a rebound. There aren’t any rebounds in this situation. Only Bumble snacks, Tinder treats, and the occasional slutty couple on Feeld.”
The best thing to do is step back and reestablish some boundaries. If the last week proved anything it’s how much she doesn’t want to mess this up. How critical it is to get back to normal.
Gabe throws the door open and Ari feels like she’s boarding the Hindenburg.
* * *
IT’S BEEN A long time since Josh had to wait in the cold outside a building, giving passersby the impression that he’s being stood up for a blind date.
Actually, no. The last time he lingered at an entryway, it was two weeks ago, and he was anticipating the arrival of the same latecomer.
He checks their last text exchange, in which she’d clearly stated she’d be at Bohemian Garden at three p.m. And while she hadn’t explicitly invited him to Radhya’s pop-up a second time, it had occurred to him that showing up to the event might present him in a magnanimous light.
Better than continuing to send her texts and receiving half-hearted, noncommittal responses.
It stands to reason that after you kiss like two people who have really, really been wanting to kiss each other for several long months, you are obliged to have at least one substantive conversation about what it meant.
New Year’s Eve had cleaved their friendship into a clear before and after—he’s only beginning to understand what the after looks like.
In the after, he and Ari haven’t talked since he walked her over to Gabe’s apartment from the Ramble. He’d spent the first day of a new year ruminating, caught in between the heady excitement of replaying the kiss and the disappointing way it fizzled.
And wondering if Ari and Gabe still “watch movies” together.
It’s the little things he can’t quite get out of his head: touching her hair for the first time, the way her cheeks were freezing and flushed and soft, her voice murmuring his name. New versions of things that are already so familiar to him.
But over the last two weeks, the confusing aftermath has painted over the memory of New Year’s with a dark, muddy wash.
He checks his watch: 3:05 p.m.
She’s never fucking on time. Is she like this at her various jobs? Does she show up late for meetings? Appointments? Dates? Does she get away with it because she always arrives with some kind of diversion? Shouting a nickname or slurping from a giant cup?
When the front door swings open, Ari is standing in the entryway, elbowing a familiar-looking man in the ribs. Why had he assumed she’d be alone? They probably have inside jokes and nicknames, too.
On second glance, they’re clearly too comfortable with each other to have just met. The sight of her being so cozy with someone else makes his throat tight.
What makes it worse is that she’s clearly uncomfortable when she finally greets Josh…with “What are you doing here?”
“Briar wanted to come,” he lies. He’d had to beg Briar to meet him here.
Josh stares at Ari for a moment, evaluating her expression. Waiting for her to betray a hint of any reaction to his surprise appearance. Relief? Satisfaction? A hint of excitement?
He sees nothing but poorly masked panic. After a beat, she leans forward and gives him a little half-hearted hug.
A hug. Since when do they hug? They’ve hugged once, at Duane Reade, when she was drunk and he was holding baby oil. Josh is certain of this.
And of course, he’ll probably remember this second awkward hug as the time she felt like she had to perform a normal act of friendship in front of her actual friend, who she probably hugs all the fucking time.
Fuck.
He presses his boots into the sidewalk, anchoring as much as one can when already standing.
“Gabe Mendoza,” the guy says, thrusting his hand out. Right. The “friend.” Josh feels a wave of relief before he remembers it was Gabe whom Ari chose to spend the rest of New Year’s with, after she kissed Josh.