The car ride was longer than I had expected. I’d assumed Heath’s family lived in town, but Natalie’s performance was at a theater twenty-five minutes from my place—all highway miles—and parking took another fifteen to find. I wouldn’t say we caught up on much during the drive, but we filled the pauses with pleasant and enjoyable conversation. Heath told me he was a high school English teacher and I’d smiled at that. He always was such a great student of literature. It only made sense that he’d make a career out of that passion. I’d told him I was a mom and a budding florist and he’d laughed at the pun and didn’t dwell on the mother part so I couldn’t read how that news made him feel. Either way, it felt good to let him know about Corbin right off the bat. I wouldn’t let him become some secret.
By the time the blinker on Heath’s old truck flicked on to turn into the performing arts center, my jitters subsided, replaced with a warm, familiar ease. From what I could tell so far, Heath was the same Heath of my memories: charmingly witty, smart, and subtly flirtatious when the moment was appropriate for it. He’d held my door wide open to allow me into the truck when he’d picked me up and I could feel his gaze land on my bare legs, skimming them up and down in appreciation. Then he’d given me the most adorable grin through the window as he closed my door into place. I had to collect my breath and myself as he jogged around to the driver’s side.
This was a date, clearly, and it surprised me at how okay I was with that.
I could do this.
Heath parked the vehicle at the edge of the lot and his truck was so big and the car next to us so far over the line that I had to shimmy across his bench seat to get out on his side. He extended a hand out to help me down, and I grabbed right on to it, probably a little too eagerly, but not enough to make me insecure. Then we walked quietly side by side toward the entrance. Heath wasn’t wrong in saying this was a highly anticipated event because the proud parents and grandparents and siblings in their Sunday best sure made it feel like a red carpet event.
I loved seeing the excitement on the dancer’s faces that congregated in the lobby before showtime. It was a kaleidoscope of sequins, taffeta, and stage makeup. Tonight was their time to shine and even though I didn’t know a single soul in the building other than Heath, my heart swelled with pride for the performers. For them, this was a really big deal and I was thankful to be a part of it.
“There she is.” Heath’s eyes lit up when he locked in on a dark-haired girl, her pin curls bobbing like springs. She giggled with a group of friends who were similar in age and costume. “Nat! Hey, Natty!”
Other pre-teen girls would be mortified to have an adult calling out and frantically waving their direction, but Natalie’s reaction was anything but embarrassed. Immediately, she abandoned her crew and shimmied through the throng of bodies, trying to reach her uncle like a salmon swimming upstream.
“You came!” Her rouged cheek smacked into his chest.
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Heath dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. “Not really sure what that phrase even means, but all I can say is that there’s no place in the world I’d rather be right now.”
“Well, since I am your whole world, it’s good that you’re here.” Natalie turned to face me. She had deep-set dimples and they were fantastic, like her uncle’s. “You must be Mallory.”
I reached out to offer my hand in greeting but Natalie confidently went in for a hug instead. “Uncle Heath hasn’t stopped talking about you. I just hope he shuts up long enough to actually watch the performance.”
Heath shook his head violently and stammered, “Don’t you have some last minute warming up to do?” Taking her by the shoulders, he swiveled Natalie away and pushed her toward her friends like she was a ticking time bomb of words and potential humiliation.
I bit my lip to pinch back the smile, but clearly still wore it when Heath returned.
“Hmmph. Kids sure say the darndest things.” He shrugged as he rubbed the back of his neck, and then he pulled two tickets from his back pocket with the other free hand. He flapped them against his palm and asked, “So, what do you say we find our seats?”
I hadn’t thought of holding anyone’s hand in a long, long while. Dylan wasn’t the touchy-feely type, which never bothered me because, under the circumstances in which we met, we didn’t begin our relationship in a way that allowed for much physical contact.
But this—this sitting here next to Heath—the memory of it all was too much. I thought back to when he’d taken me to the movies when we first dated in high school. It was a popular romantic comedy at the time, and it took until right before the credits rolled onto the dark screen for him to grasp onto my hand, which had been conveniently waiting on the armrest between us. We sat there until they flicked the houselights on, stealing away every second we could to finally have our hands joined.
It was presumptuous for me to think Heath had any interest in holding my hand now, though. “As friends.” That was the qualifier he’d given for this night. Maybe it was forward to assume he’d invited me here for anything more than friendly company. I might have jumped to an embarrassingly wrong conclusion with this.
Even still, I couldn’t deny that I was sitting there as girls in glittering tutus pirouetted across the stage, hoping he wanted my hand. Because I certainly wanted his.
When the number stopped and the applause broke, I let the point of my elbow land on the rest between us. From the corner of my eye, Heath’s Adam’s apple lifted and dropped, worked with an agonizingly slow swallow. His fingers came to his tie and he swiveled it loose, slightly. It made me blush. I was staring at him, at the way the lights from the stage flashed over his strong features. They sparkled his gray eyes, and when he blinked, his blond lashes fluttered and made my stomach do the same.
Realizing one of Natalie’s dance troops was about to perform, I switched my attention forward, but the pull to glance over at Heath was almost more than I could withstand. My hand lay there between us, palm up, and it was desperate and needy and brave all combined.
“This is what you want, Mallory,” I told myself, silently. “You’re a grown woman and if you want to hold hands with a guy on the first date, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.” I laughed at the innocence in my pep talk but gave it still.
The problem was that there was an opportunity for rejection here, and I felt it deep down, in the part of me that worried I’d mess this up, read into it all wrong.
He’d rejected me before.
He could do it again.
But rejection was not the worst thing to happen.
I wriggled my fingers and left my empty and willing hand there, open for Heath to take.
