Page 48 of Let's Talk About Love

She put the paper down, fighting against the smile. If he looked at her like that again? Words. There were none. But there were questions all floating around a word she’d heard and seen on TV but never in real life.

Did he desire her?

More important, did she want him to?

“You should be an actor,” she said. “Go to a casting call for a romantic indie movie or web series. The Internet would lose its collective shit over you.”

“I meant it. You’re beautiful, Alice.”

“Thanks,” she said with a tiny laugh. “But that doesn’t mean you still can’t act. You have to mean what you say, really get into character or your performance will suck. I think you’d be good at it.”

“I’m happy being a sort of librarian and a teacher,” he said. “I decided to stay on past the summer. Every other weekend for Storytime shifts.”

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something—” She paused. “It’s kind of personal.”

“Go for it.”

“Why did you get a second job?”

“My, uh, roommate moved out,” he said. “Our lease wasn’t up and I couldn’t find someone to cover their share of the rent, so I decided to try to find another job.”

“That’s super shitty.”

“Yeah. Well. That seems to be the kind of person they are.”

Semi-awkward silence descended upon them. In true Alice fashion, she decided to fight awkward with silly.

Face scrunched, she asked, “Can I bite your nose?”

“What? No. You can kiss it, though.” He tapped his nose. “Come on.”

“I amnotkissing you.” She shook her head, laughing.

“Why not? It’s a perfectly valid offer. You should take me up on it.” He picked up a straw, unwrapped it, and began to chew on one end.

“Don’t crumple the paper. You have to do the thing.” She took the paper from him and tied it into a knot. “You’re supposed to pull it apart. If it breaks close to the knot, it means someone is thinking about you.” She handed it to him.

He pulled. “I wonder who that could be?”

“It’s probably me,” she admitted. “It’s only fun to do when you’re alone so you can speculate.”

After their food arrived, they headed back to Takumi’s car where he drove them to the waterfront. He pulled a blanket out of the trunk of his car.

“’Tis a fine evening for a picnic,” he said, offering the crook of his arm.

She giggled and looped her arm through his. They sat on the grassy lawn as close as they could to the metal barrier. The moon shone overhead, full and bright, and rippled upon the water. The clear sky was decorated with stars. No one was around—just the two of them in their own private moment.

The edge of his egg-white omelet called her name. “Eww,” she groaned as it hit her taste buds. “There’s like no flavor in this.”

“It tastes fine.” Takumi laughed.

“No, it doesn’t. The food you made for me was amazing. Why would you subject yourself to that?” She speared a piece of pancake and swirled it in the buttery syrup. “Here.”

Her hand shook the tiniest bit as she held up the fork. Was she really about to feed him?

(Yes. Yes, she was.)

He shook his head, pressing his lips together.