by Nicole Deese
A text alert snapped my attention away from the scenery and back to my phone. I pulled it out and nearly dropped it into an open paint can.
Can’t say I’m known for my decor advice, but I’m rooting that Noah will love it.
My entire body prickled with goose bumps as I swiped up on my screen, trying to make sense of why Joshua was replying to a text I’d sent to—oh. I’d sent him the picture, not Jenna. How had I never noticed they were neighbors in my contact list?
Heat crept up my neck, radiating from my cheeks and ears. What do I even say to him? Sorry, I’m an idiot? Sorry, I just sent you a picture of my future nursery? Sorry that my subconscious mind doesn’t quite understand the new rules of engagement between us?
Another text chimed.
If you’re freaking out that you accidentally texted me a picture of your wall . . . don’t. I’ve been trying to find a reason to text you for days. So can I?
I bit my bottom lip, letting the soggy paintbrush slip back into the pan, drowning a slow death of thick blue paint.
Can you what?
Text you.
The soft sound that escaped me was almost a laugh, yet like all things Joshua, the unexpected message had tugged a little too close to my heart to be met with any kind of flippancy. Because there was nothing flippant about whatever we’d become to each other in such a short period of time.
Yes, of course.
Hi.
Hi.
I slid down the wall opposite my Cadet Blue handiwork and held my breath as I waited for Joshua’s thinking dots to materialize into words. I was certain that whatever he was typing deserved my undivided attention. It had been nearly a week since we’d spoken, nearly a week since those heartbreaking eyes of his had arrested my ability to breathe.
After I told him what was really going on, I’d half expected him to ignore me, to withdraw the way . . . well, the way other men in my life had withdrawn when disappointment knocked. But Joshua hadn’t dismissed me. In fact, yesterday I’d been almost certain he was waiting around to say something to me after the all-staff meeting, but then I got caught in a discussion with Mrs. Pendleton, and the next thing I knew he was gone.
And maybe that was the most noticeable change between us. Though Joshua still smiled at me in the hallways and had even winked at me from across the lunchroom two days ago while we directed kids to the correct food lines, there was an unspoken tension between us now that I simply didn’t know how to navigate.
I’d witnessed Joshua’s ability to create common ground in a dozen different social situations. He never lacked for conversation and was well versed in how to put the other party at ease. It was his gift.
In only a matter of a few weeks, he’d shifted the equilibrium in our entire school. And yet, between us, the familiar rhythm we’d once found now felt disjointed. Achingly so. The truth was, I simply didn’t know how to be uncomfortable with Joshua.
I need to apologize. And before you tell me not to, please hear me out. Deal?
I skimmed my index finger over his text box before typing a single okay in reply.
I haven’t known what to say since you told me. It’s not often I’m at a loss for words, either.