Miles was sitting at the bar when I entered the restaurant, a little late because I’d gone back and forth so many times about what to wear. I wanted to look cute but casual, not too sexy but not too demure. Eventually I went with jeans and a sleeveless white top. Skylar probably would have added a necklace or something to look more trying-but-not-trying, but I didn’t have time to hunt for the perfect thing, not that I would recognize it. The colorful flowers inked on my upper arm were usually enough ornamentation for me anyway. I did wear the shiny gold sandals Jillian had given me for my birthday last month, but only because they were flat and I knew I could walk quickly in them.
“Hi.” I slid onto the seat next to him, a little out of breath from rushing. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re fine, I just got here.” He reached up and mussed my shoulder-length hair, which was still damp from the shower. “How was the swim?”
“Good.” I set my bag near my feet. “How was your afternoon?”
“Excellent. I napped a little more and then I took a run.”
The bartender set a glass of beer down in front of Miles. “What can I get for you?” he asked me.
“I’ll have the same.” I gestured to Miles’s drink.
“A Bam Bière? You got it.”
“Could we get the pulled pork nachos?” Miles asked, looking at the menu. “And the truffle french fries?”
“Sure thing.” The bartender glanced at me. “Are you sharing? Or would you like something else?”
“Um…” I glanced at Miles.
“I’ll always share my pork with you, Natalie,” he said tenderly. “I’ll even let you pull it.”
I sighed and looked at the bartender. “I’ll share with him.”
“Is this new?” Miles ran his fingertips over my tattoo, and the way I felt the effects of his touch between my legs made me shift in my chair. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not too new. I got it last year, when I turned twenty-five. A gift to myself.” I shrugged, trying to ignore the way my female parts were tingling. “I’d always wanted it and finally worked up the nerve.”
“What were you nervous about? The pain?”
I slugged his shoulder. “Come on, you know me better than that. I guess just the commitment. It is permanent, after all. Tattoos shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
Miles raised his eyebrows. “Well, for being nervous, you didn’t hold back. How many sessions did that take?”
“Several. I figured if I was gonna do it, I was gonna be all in.” I tilted my head. “I’m like that with a lot of things, actually.”
“Does Dan like it?” He said it casually as he picked up his beer, but it sounded like a bit of a challenge. Should I admit Dan wasn’t crazy about tattoos and was a huge reason why I’d waited so long to get mine?
“He does,” I said carefully. “He’s just not that into tattoos in general.”
Miles nodded. “Think you’ll get another one?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. How about you?” Miles had gotten his first tattoo when he was eighteen, probably to spite his mother, but he’d added a fair amount of ink since. His left arm was pretty much covered. I wondered if he had anything on his chest or back and felt warmth bloom between my legs. So I crossed them. Tight.
“Maybe. If I feel like it. Like you said, it’s a commitment.” He set his glass down. “Probably the only kind of commitment I will ever make.”
I elbowed him. “Probably.”
Over a couple beers apiece, the nachos, french fries, and later a wild mushroom pizza, we caught each other up on family news, laughed over childhood memories and some of the articles he’d written, and talked about our jobs, our workout regimens, and our plans for the summer. He told me about the book he was writing, and I gushed about the new house. It was as easy to be with Miles as it ever was, and we went back and forth between serious topics and joking around.
What we didn’t talk about was Dan. It’s not like I was avoiding the subject, and I did mention his name once or twice, but Miles never asked me about him specifically, or about the relationship, nor did he offer any details about his own love life. But I was curious.
“So are you dating anyone?” I picked up a third slice of pizza, swearing inwardly that it would be my last.
He swallowed the bite he was chewing. “Define dating.”
“Just the two of you. You pick her up or she picks you up or you meet somewhere, like a movie or a bar or a restaurant.”
“Sounds OK so far,” he said hesitantly, furrowing his brow.