"Look, all I'm saying is that spaghetti is a baseline entree," Alex laughed as he leaned his head back on the driver's seat. "How did they screw it up so bad?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," I sighed. "All I know is that I can never tell my Italian mother about this night."

Alex smiled. "I hear that."

We were on our second official "date" and to say things had gone badly at dinner would be the understatement of the year.

After the waiter spilled a glass of ice water in Alex's lap, we received the wrong appetizer. Then the wrong entrees. And when the right plates finally made it in front of us, the pasta was severely undercooked. We made a valiant attempt for about ten minutes before Alex paid the check and insisted we hit up a fast-food place for some burgers. 

Now we were sitting in front of my house, the music playing alongside the whoosh of air conditioning, and I was trying to work up the courage to ask him inside.

Since I felt partly responsible for the bad dinner, suggesting a restaurant in Brighton that I'd never actually been to, all I could think about was the pile of sugar cookies on my counter. It was a batch I'd made yesterday, uninterrupted by a certain neighbor, and was exceedingly proud of. Proud enough to share, even if it meant inviting a new someone...a new man, into my house.

I wasn't sure what kept holding me back, but since I'd resolved myself to nurture the good things in my life and Alex was quickly becoming one of them, I bit the bullet. It's not like it was anything serious. Just a last minute treat to make up for a crappy dinner.

"Do you, uhm..." I glanced over at him and found his eyes already on me, glistening in the yellowish glow of the streetlights. I cleared my throat to ease the nerves. "I have cookies inside. If you wanted to come in?"

Alex's eyebrows jumped with intrigue. "What kind of cookies?"

"Frosted sugar."

"Homemade?"

"Roughly."

He laughed. "What does that mean?"

"It means they're from a package," I smirked. "But I baked them myself. And the frosting is from scratch."

"Ahh." He nodded, looked out the dashboard, then over at me again. His gaze fluttered all over my face and he exhaled a breath. "I'd love to come in and try your roughly homemade cookies, Davina."

I reached for my door handle. "You won't be sorry."

"I'm sure I won't, but you will be if you open that door for yourself again." He hopped out of the car and practically sprinted to the passenger side. "You have to let me try and be a gentleman," he said when he opened the door, slightly out of breath from the mad dash he took to get to it.

The whole thing was comical, almost cartoonish, and I couldn't help laughing. "I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

"Mmhmm." Amusement danced in his eyes as he stepped to the side and gave me room to climb out.

As soon as I did, I glanced across the top of Alex's car and my eyes did an involuntary peek across the street. Spence's porch light was on, but the inside was dark. I wondered where he was.

Stop it, Davina.

Stop wondering where he is.

"Everything okay?" Alex asked, pulling my attention to his face.

"Yeah, of course." I swallowed hard. "Come on."

I grabbed his hand and led him inside my house, flicking a lamp on as we passed through the entryway and into the kitchen. Nerves fluttered in my stomach with every step, but I forced myself to stay in the moment.

"You want something to drink?" I asked over my shoulder as I reached in the cabinet for a glass.

"Uh, yeah," he muttered, sounding distracted. "Water would be great."

"You got it." I grabbed two cups and spun back around to see what had caught his attention. 

Alex was looking at my fridge. Or, more specifically, the advertisement I'd clipped from an outdoor catalog at my mother's house. The furniture section had a hammock with a watermelon design. I mean, come on.

"Big fan of hammocks?" He pointed at the picture and smiled.

I exhaled an anxious laugh. "You could say that."

"Do you have one?"

"Not yet."

Alex appeared at the sink beside me. I felt his warm presence while I looked out the window, and he followed my line of vision to the tiny backyard with nowhere to hang a hammock.

"I guess you need a couple trees for that," he pointed out, voice sounding as glum as I felt about the situation.

"Unfortunately," I sighed, turning to face him. I handed over his glass of water and put a step of distance between us. "It's an adventure for another house. Whenever I get around to moving, I suppose."

He nodded. "And will that be any time soon?"

"I don't know," I shrugged, kinda over the conversation we were having. I didn't want to talk about hammocks or how much I actually liked living here because of how close it was to–

Are you kidding, Davina?

Stop. Thinking. About. Spencer. Lovejoy.

Fuck.

"Cookies!" I blurted out, letting out a nervous laugh as Alex furrowed his brow at the sudden change of topic. "They're right over here."

I wandered over to the island counter, and he followed close behind. The sugar cookies I'd made were stored safely in a glass display case usually reserved for cake. I pulled the heavy lid off and presented all the colorful choices, a pastel rainbow of frosting. Some with sprinkles, some without.

"They look amazing," Alex said as he reached for a yellow one with blue sprinkles.

I watched as he took the first bite, his eyes widening with delight at the taste, and satisfaction filled me to the brim. "Good?"

"Very good," he answered, demolishing the rest of the cookie in just two bites. "If you hadn't mentioned the package, I'd have thought they were homemade."

Laughing, I moved toward the counter to stand closer to him. "My homemade ones would probably blow your mind."

"That wouldn't surprise me," he answered softly, allowing a pleasant silence to fall between us as he inhaled a deep breath and let it out, eyes lingering on mine. After a moment, he spoke again. "So, is baking another one of your...things?"

I gave him a look. "Things?"

"Yeah." He smiled and stepped closer. "You know, the important stuff. The things that make you who you are."

"I guess?" My eyes narrowed in his direction, confused by the question. "I'm not really sure what you mean."

Alex reached for my hand. "I'm just trying to get to know you, Davina," he said, entwining our fingers as he elaborated. "We've been...spending time together for almost a month now, and I feel like the only things I know about you are that you hate the county fair and want a hammock someday."

"Oh..." My spine went straight at his declaration. Despite the tenderness he held my hand with, my fingers felt trapped in his grasp. "I'm sorry I haven't been very forthcoming with myself. I'm just..."

Lost.

Not used to being open with people.

I've been wearing a mask of indifference for too long.

Thinking back on our time together, I couldn't deny that he was right. I really hadn't given too much of myself away, always holding back and keeping things casual. I didn't like talking about anything personal, which was basically what people did when they were getting to know each other.

"It's okay, really," Alex interrupted my fury of thoughts. "You did say when we met that you weren't interested in dating, so I'm not here to pressure you. I just like you a lot, and I want to get to know you better. No matter where this is or isn't going."

I stared into his blue eyes. Their depth was easy to get lost in, especially when paired with a dose of honesty like the one he'd just given me. My shoulders relaxed a bit and I took a collecting breath. Maybe it was time to share some honesty of my own.

"I'm a little out of sorts these days," I admitted softly, feeling a rush of goosebumps cover my skin. "My brother..." I swallowed hard and blinked a few times to stave away the tears. "He passed away a few months back and I'm still working through it."

It wasn't the whole truth. I'd left out a lot of other things that were keeping me hostage. But it was all I could give him right then, all my bewildered heart could offer, and it would have to do.

Alex's eyes widened as he digested what I told him. But just as quickly, he wiped his face of all surprise and nodded slowly, a frown touching his lips. "I'm sorry to hear that." He gave my hand a squeeze.

"It's okay." I exhaled a soft, sad laugh. The last thing I wanted to do was bring the mood down, and now that I'd shared a piece of myself, I was ready to move onto something else. "The truth is, I have enjoyed spending time with you lately, Alex. And I'd like to keep it up, if you're willing to be patient with me."

A smile softened the concern on his face. "I'm good with that."

***

An hour later, the gloomy mood had disappeared with a few more of the cookies, and we'd moved to the living room. An old episode of Law and Order played on the TV as we sat a comfortable distance from one another on the couch.

I stuck to one side, my feet propped up on the coffee table, while Alex manspreaded himself out on the other. The sight wasn't distracting at all, said my sarcasm. I only stole a peek at him every two minutes or so.

Alex, on the other hand, stared at the TV with the utmost of interest. "Do you ever notice how the very first character they write off as not being a suspect is usually the person entirely responsible for the crime?"

Nodding slowly, I considered that for a minute, remembering more of the episodes I'd watched.

"Wait, that's kind of true." I spared him another glance. "I think you've ruined this show for me. I'm not going to be able to stop thinking about that now."

"Sorry," he smirked in my direction, not looking the least bit apologetic.

I shook my head and turned back to face the TV. The credits were rolling, which meant the news was on next. If we didn't call it a night soon, the mood was bound to take another dip. Watching the nightly reports was like getting a shot of depression injected straight into your veins. They never seemed to share anything good anymore.

Alex seemed to read my mind, coming to his feet with a sigh. "I should probably head out," he said. Phone in hand, he looked at the time.

"Yeah, it's pretty late," I agreed.

Together, we meandered toward the front door, taking our time and invading each other's space a bit more than necessary. I hardly gave it a thought, which was kind of weird, considering the heavy conversation we'd shared in the kitchen.

But in the span of our extended evening, I'd grown more comfortable in Alex's presence, and I walked him to the door with the same level of familiarity I usually had around Leann or Griff after one of our casual movie nights.

We'd developed a vibe for sure.

Alex's steps slowed when we made it to the entryway. I followed suit, watching with curiosity as he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, then pulled them out again.

He ran a hand through his hair, lingering a bit like he didn't remember he had anything on top of his head.

Was he...nervous?

I smiled at the thought of that.

"Thanks for inviting me in." He cleared his throat. "Apart from the pasta disaster, I had fun tonight, Davina."

"Me, too," I laughed, looking up into his blue eyes.

For the moment, his nerves seemed to wash away and he stared back at me with sincerity in his gaze, asking softly, "When can I see you again?"

"Uhm..." I bit the inside of my cheek, eyes trailing over his shoulder where my purse was hanging. It had my copy of next week's work schedule tucked inside it, and I thought maybe staring it down would help me remember what that schedule was. "I think I'm off on–"

"Who's this?" Alex's voice interrupted me, his question so puzzling and abrupt it drew my attention straight back to his face, wondering where he was looking because he couldn't have been looking at me anymore.

Sure enough, as I'd been glancing over his shoulder, he'd been glancing over mine, eyes peeled on the wall behind me where a photo of me and Dalton hung. I wasn't huge on taking pictures, let alone printing and hanging them in my house, but it was the only recent one I had of the two of us, and I loved it.

It was the only memory that felt right gracing my walls.

A touch of sorrow invaded my chest, but I kept my attention on Alex. His eyes didn't move from the photo, and I couldn't read what they were saying, what he was thinking, or who he might've thought was standing beside me in the picture frame.

Though twins, Dalton and I weren't identical ones, so we didn't look much alike. The only attribute we shared was the same set of eyes, which didn't capture well through a camera lens.

Did Alex think that was a photo of me and an old boyfriend or something? That would be weird but I guess not totally out there.

I pulled in a shaky breath. "That's my brother."

His throat bobbed up and down with a hard swallow, and his next question was whisper soft.

"The one who died?"

I nodded. "Yes."

He worked his jaw a couple times, and I won't lie, my heart sank a little at his unexpected show of emotion. I'd dropped some depressing news on him in the kitchen earlier, news that probably hit a little close to home since he had a brother of his own.

His eyes traveled slowly over to mine, shoulders rising and falling with a calculated breath. Then he scrubbed a hand over his mouth and shook it off. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I whispered.

As we began moving toward the door again, I felt the urge to reach for his hand, if only to ease some of the weirdness that had just come into the room with us. But he'd shoved them back into his pockets, those nerves from earlier on full display again.

I didn't overthink it. In fact, I was more calm than I expected. Maybe Alex had claimed enough nervous energy for the both of us.

When I opened the door for him, he turned to face me one last time, keys jingling in one hand, the other still in his pocket.

"Thanks again," he muttered. His voice crackled a bit and his gaze roamed my face like he was trying to memorize my features, eyes studying mine like they were an exhibit in the Louvre. 

Of course, he'd looked at me plenty of times before but never like that. Never for so long. 

Had I missed something?

I started to wonder if I had frosting somewhere on my face. But then his hand came up and he placed it gently on the back of my head, his movement tender and slow, his proximity invading mine.

It was the closest we'd ever gotten to each other. Close enough to feel like an embrace. Close enough for his musky cologne to infiltrate my senses. Close enough to make my body react, if it wanted to.

I waited for it with bated breath.

I waited for my heart to race with excitement, to do a cartwheel in my chest. I waited for my stomach to do a delicious twirl.

As Alex drew closer, I kept waiting. For something, anything. But my body would do no such thing.

When he dropped a chaste kiss on my forehead, everything inside me remained unmoved.

And when he left, it felt like all the other nights we parted ways under the umbrella of casual.

I felt nothing.

Was I broken?

I must've been broken.

But even as the thought coursed through my mind, the sound of a motorcycle rang in my ears. 

The noise grew progressively louder as it came closer and closer, eventually passing right in front of my house as Spencer pulled into his driveway, stalling as the garage opened.

The sight of him made my heart race with excitement. It cartwheeled in my chest.

When he pulled his bike in and spared me a glance before shutting the garage door, my stomach twirled. It spun and tugged and ached.

I felt everything.

So, I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.

Spence making eye contact with me certainly wasn't an invitation to his house. I had no business going over there. But as my heart continued to thrash around in my chest, I followed the beat of it right to his door.

I wanted to be where the feeling was.