He looks up and catches me watching him. I’m good enough at playing things off to know pretending I wasn’t looking is such an amateur move, so I fake a natural smile, waiting for him to return it. Josiah is good at many things. Faking isn’t one of them. He doesn’t smile back, but flicks a narrowed glance from me to Mark.
I turn back to Mark, my smile a little wider. Imaybat my lashes the tiniest bit. It’s small of me, but my ex is here with our kids and our damndogfor all the world to see. Strolling up in here holdinghands. So, yes, I laugh a little longer and louder when Mark makes a joke that’s only slightly funny. I may lean forward an inch more to make it easier for him to check out my considerable above-the-belt assets. I mean…these are the wiles I resort to when backed into a corner. It’s one thing to know they’re dating. If Hendrix is right, they may be sleeping together already. It just hits different seeing the evidence firsthand of a deepening relationship between Josiah and Vashti. It hitsharder.
And sometimes I don’t handle harder well.
“Looks like the movie is about to begin,” Mark says after a few minutes of small talk and light flirting. I’m out of practice with flirting, but I think I do all right. By the warmth of his smile and the way he is completely focused on me, I’d say maybe even better than all right.
“Could I talk to you for a second before the movie starts?” Mark asks, not waiting for my answer, but extending his hand to help me stand.
“Uh, sure.” I follow him a few feet away, glancing back to Hendrix and Soledad. Both grin encouragingly. If it wouldn’t be so obvious, I suspect Hendrix would give me a thumbs-up.
“So maybe I’ve been a bit too subtle in expressing my interest,” Mark says when we reach the edge of the crowd, out of anyone’s easy earshot.
It’s not the first time he’s tried to flirt with me since the divorce. If he thinks he’s been subtle, Pearl Harbor was a day at the beach.
“Subtle?” I ask, blanking my expression. “What do you mean?”
“I like you, Yasmen.” His smile is open and genuine, his eyes earnest. “Like…a lot.”
I look down at the ground and slide my hands into the pockets of my sundress, suddenly uncomfortable. There’s hope in his eyes that I’m not sure I deserve. Not because I’m not good enough, but because I don’tfeelenough. Not for him.
“Mark, I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Why would you hurt me?” He tilts my chin with his index finger, holding my eyes with his.
I don’t want anyone caught in the cross fire between Josiah and me, though Josiah’s not playing a game or pretending he likes Vashti to make me jealous. He likes her. He genuinely wants to be with her. I can’t drag Mark into the games I might play to make myself more comfortable with that.
“I haven’t dated anyone since my divorce,” I finally say, looking at him with complete frankness. “And I’m not sure you want to be first at bat. I’m not ready for anything serious or—”
“Look, I’m not asking for anything serious. It can be whatever you want. I’m willing to take the risk of first at bat.” He rakes an admiring look from my hair, in coils and running free tonight, over the full dips and curves of my body, down to the sandals on my feet. “I think you’re gorgeous, Yasmen. Sexy as hell. Smart. A natural leader. Kind. You’re the total package, and I’d like to get to know you better.”
The woman Mark is describing is thebeforeme. The one who could always push through every setback to get the job done. The one who carried everyone else’s burdens, barely feeling the extra weight. Not the one who imploded. The one who fell and couldn’t manage to pull herself up. Not the one who hid. It’s intoxicating to have someone see me this way again. I’ve felt like I was coming back to myself, but hearing Mark articulate what he sees when he looks at me, it’s bolstering. And after how jarring it was to see Josiah with Vashti tonight, it feels good.
“Okay.” I chuckle, flicking an uncertain look up at him. “So first at bat?”
He takes my hand, stroking my palm with his thumb.
“Could be a home run,” he teases, dipping his head to catch my eyes and draw a smile from me. “Let me get your number. I’ll call and maybe we can do dinner.”
We exchange numbers. He gives my hand one more gentle squeeze, and we head back toward the crowd.
I draw a deep breath, steadying my heartbeat. It’s not that Mark makes my heart race. I’m honest enough to admit to myself that, while he’s attractive and charismatic and all the things a woman could want, I’m just not that into him…yet. But the fact that I’m giving him a chance, that I’m giving myself a chance, feels like a new adventure, when for so long while I recovered, I’ve had to play it safe.
Mark rejoins the group he came with, and I start back to our blankets and blended families, loving how my little crew and Soledad’s are all meshed together. How Hendrix has Deja cracking up about something, and my daughter’s face is for once not petulant, but amused and open.
And then Vashti and Josiah sitting together a few feet away. With his sharp jawline and broad shoulders, he’s the picture of leashed strength and virility. I know him intimately. Know him beneath his clothes. Know him beneath the control he imposes on himself. I’ve seen him break. From pleasure, fury, agony. And I never realized how someone else knowing him that way, seeing him that way, would affect me.
Now I do.
Once I’ve reseated myself on the blanket, the movie begins and everyone falls quiet.
Everyone except Hendrix, of course.
“So what was that about?” she whispers close to my ear. Someone had the forethought to buy popcorn, bless their hearts. I fix my eyes on the screen, dipping my hand into the popcorn and not answering.
“Yas!” she whispers again. “What did he want?”
I turn on her, abandoning all pretense of watching the opening credits.