Page 23 of The Perfect Heart

“Something?” she repeated. “What something?”

“I don’t even know. Just this”—I searched for the word—“this electricity.”

Emily’s eyebrows arched. “Electricity?”

“I—”

Before I could explain further, a shadow fell over the table. A server who gave Emily a run for her money when it came to disinterest stood over us. None of us said anything for a moment, and I glanced at my friend, wondering if she knew what was going on.

“I think you’re supposed to order?” She shrugged.

“Oh.”

I had been so intent on getting my story out that I had completely forgotten to look at the menu. I glanced at it, then at the server’s face, her mouth screwed up into an impatient line.

“I’ll have a Manhattan.”

The server left without a single word, and I watched her go, wondering what the hell had just happened.

But Emily was grinning. “That’s why I like this place. It reminds me of New York.”

For a moment, all I could do was stare at her, but then I laughed. “I think I’ll stick to Nash’s bar. I prefer friendly service to the feeling that I’m disturbing the staff.”

“Fair enough.” Emily shrugged, but I could still see amusement dancing in her dark eyes. “Anyway, getting back to Nash, what happened the other night?”

“Well, nothing happened. But it could have, I swear. We sat there, and I put my head on his shoulder like I always did. But it felt different this time, like I could feel him under my skin.”

I could still feel him under my skin, the heat of him, the buzzing awareness of him, almost as though he were still sitting on the couch beside me.

“He started running his hand up and down my thigh, too. And wow, when I tell you, my heart started pounding—”

I didn’t think I needed to explain any further. Nor did I want to go into all the thoughts that had run through my head or the sensations that had run through my body.

Emily was leaning closer now, her half-finished martini on the table.

“He put his hand on your thigh?”

“It was a friendly gesture.”

But even as I said the words, I wasn’t sure. My knee was one thing—that he had done before. But never once had he put his hand in such an intimate place, run his fingers up and down my leg in a way that had me quivering inside just thinking about it.

“Friendly? That doesn’t sound just friendly to me.” Emily spoke my thoughts for me.

“I know,” I sighed, looking down at my hand.

My manicure had grown to the point that I had started chipping away at the polish and filing the nail down. In the dim light, I could still see the band of lighter skin around my ring finger, and I shoved my hand under my leg so I didn’t have to look at it anymore.

“And I swear we almost kissed. But if that weren’t confusing enough, I saw Nash and Nicole looking pretty cozy the next day. Or at least, she was flirting pretty heavily with him. And when I saw her a couple of days later on the street, she warned me to stay away from him and said they have a thing.”

“Nash and Nicole?” Emily’s nose screwed up in distaste, and I had to laugh. “I can’t imagine a guy like Nash hooking up with”—she flapped her hand, indicating all that Nicole presented—“that. Although I didn’t know him like you did.”

The gesture made me smile, at least, but I sighed again. “I didn’t think so either, but we’ve all changed. So who knows? He said they had a thing a few months ago, but that was over. But now I’m not so sure.”

Emily was watching me, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Do you care that there’s something between them?”

Did I? I didn’t know what to think. Nash was my best friend. Had been my best friend, though it felt like we had been moving back in that direction. He was looking out for me, keeping me safe, driving me to and from work.

But did adult best friends run their fingers up and down their friend’s thigh? Or almost kiss them? Unless, as I told Emily, I had imagined it all, or it had been one-sided. When I had caught Nash looking at me from across the bar, was it because he was checking on me, or had it been less about my safety and more romantic in nature?