She’d changed something so basic about herself. She’d changed, period. And suddenly, he was pretty sure he had, too.
He was still working to process it when her expression shifted, and she waved, clearly spotting him across the room. He smiled, a wary, fragile thing, as he paused to delete the message he hadn’t bothered to send and didn’t need to now. And then he moved, closing the distance just as she was doing the same.
With the shock of her hair percolating in the background, he took in the rest of the details of her appearance. Her makeup was light, so that much at least was the same. He recognized the little white shrug she wore across her shoulders, but the sundress underneath it was new. She had a bag slung over her shoulder in addition to her purse, but it wasn’t terribly big. She was probably only staying one night, then.
And that was… okay. Really, truly, honestly okay.
They came to a stop with a couple of feet still separating them, like there was some sort of force field holding him back. Before this summer, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Her grin was as sheepish as his felt as she tugged at the strap of her bag and shifted her weight.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi. You… I…” Jesus. “It’s so good to see you.” And with that, he got over himself, stepping forward into her space for that hug. She gave it to him willingly enough, but it was as different as all those unreturned phone calls would have—should have—led him to expect.
He pulled away after just a second, letting her go. His hand caught on her hair.
“I know,” she said, reading his mind apparently. “It was a stupid whim, but…”
“It’s nice.” He wasn’t even lying about it. “Different, but… pretty.” He regarded her again. “It suits you.”
A tension around her eyes seemed to ease. “You think?”
“Yeah. I do.” It suited this new version of her that wasn’t his, and that probably should’ve hurt more. But it didn’t. It was just a quiet little hint of an ache—a wound that, somehow, while he hadn’t been looking, had started to heal.
They gazed at each other for a long moment before he remembered himself. “Here, let me take your bag. We can stash it upstairs, and then…” He had a whole host of potential plans, but none of them felt right. Letting out a long breath, he relaxed his shoulders. “Have you eaten?”
“I’m starving.”
She held out her bag, and he accepted it, slinging it over his shoulder as he led the way to the elevator bay. “You in the mood for anything in particular? I went to a good Thai place for lunch the other day. Or there’s a sandwich place. Or—”
“Thai sounds good.”
They stepped into a waiting elevator. He hit the button for his floor and leaned into the wall as the doors slid closed. She stood opposite him, and he regarded her again, trying to peer deeper.
“What?” she asked.
Right. You could only stare in silence at a girl for so long before it got weird. He shrugged. “You look good.”
“So do you.” One side of her mouth turned up. “I didn’t know you could even get that tan.”
“Me neither.”
“There’s something else about you, too.” She regarded him as the floors dinged by. “I can’t quite put my finger on it, but…” She trailed off, not finishing the thought, not telling him he’d changed. He didn’t need her to. He was pretty sure he knew the feeling.
A louder chime sounded, and the doors opened onto their floor. He got out his keycard as they walked, but at the door, he paused. A tickle of nerves firing off, he turned to her. “Don’t read anything into the room, okay?”
“Um…”
He let them in, and he felt her registering that one, big bed.
“Yeah… uh…” He set her bag down on the desk and palmed the back of his neck.
“It’s fine.”
“If it’s not, I can see if they can change it. And anyway, it’s so big, it’s not like we have to sleep on top of each other.” But hidden behind his every word was the fact that the room expected them to sleep together. In the same bed.
Her hand brushed his. “It’s fine. Really. Wouldn’t be the first time, right?”
“Well, no, but…” It would be the first time since they’d called it quits again. Since they’d spent this summer with so much distance between them, and since they’d come together again as new people.
It wouldn’t be the same. And that was okay.
“Come on.” She withdrew her hand, and he didn’t chase her touch as she retreated. “You promised me noodles.”
It was easier, sitting across a table from each other in a restaurant, their knees not touching, their hands restricted safely to their own sides. Between great gulping bites of pad thai, she told him about work and her classes and their friends and all the other hundred little things he’d been wondering about all summer long.
He laughed, shaking his head at the end of one of her stories. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“What? Why not?” She washed another forkful of her dinner down with a sip of her drink. “The student union was made to be climbed.”
“Well, sure, maybe, but—” But she wouldn’t have done it, back when he’d first met her. “I just never thought you’d be the one climbing it.”
“I guess I can still surprise you.”
“Yeah. I guess you can.”
She wiped her mouth with a napkin and set her silverware down, pushing her empty plate away from her. She gestured with her head toward the door. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Sure.” He motioned for the check and paid it over the sounds of her protests, batting at her hands when she tried to grab for it. “You drove all the way down here.”
She rolled her eyes. “And you flew all the way up here! And got a hotel room. You didn’t even eat anything.”
“I had a drink.” He slipped the billfold to the waiter and stood.
She pouted all the way to the door. As they spilled out onto the street, she elbowed him in the side. “I wanted to pay my share.”
It probably took him too long to get it. When they went on dates, he insisted on paying. And this wasn’t a date. He let his expression soften as he nudged her back. “You can get breakfast.”
She gave him an assessing look. “Darn right I can.” She glanced down the street, rocking on her heels. “You want to head back, or…” She trailed off, and he considered it.
Going to the hotel meant going to that room. And that bed. His throat went tight. “It’s a nice night. We could walk around some first?”
Her sigh of relief matched his own. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”
It was habit to extend his arm for her to take. She shook her head at him but slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow all the same.
Baltimore had a pretty terrible reputation, but the area around the conference hotel was nice enough. They ambled along in silence for a block or so, looking at the buildings and the nightlife before she asked, “So how about you? How’s your summer going?”
He heaved out a breath. “Good.” He corrected himself. “Better.” Because it had been terrible at first. Lonely. But then he’d worked past it and gotten to know the people around him. Found a way to make it okay.
In fits and starts, he recounted the details he’d been waiting to tell her. His housemates and his advisor and his work. When he got to the list of girls in the program, he hesitated.
And Shannon could tell. She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing. Something.” He chuckled and kicked at a rock. “I don’t know.”
For a moment, she went silent. “Did you meet someone?”
He’d never imagined he would be confessing this to her. But now, when confronted with it, he couldn’t bring himself to evade. “Maybe?”
And she beamed. “Oh my God, Adam! Tell me all about her.” She squeezed his arm, practically bouncing on her toes.
He tilted his head to the side. “Isn’t this weird?”
“Do you want it to be?”