Leighton shifts her weight between her heels. She taps her grey jeans with her silver fingernails. Adjusts the lacing on her tank top.

Fuck. It’s like she’s wearing this shit to make some point about what an idiot I am for not taking her against the wall.

No arguments here.

I’d kill to turn off the part of my brain that throws up the brakes. That part that’s still tied to my ex-girlfriend.

I’d kill to pry that last bit of my heart from Penny’s French manicured grasp.

The couple in front of us rises to their tiptoes to order at the window. The guy wraps his arms around the girl. Laughs at some joke as he hands over a twenty-dollar bill.

Leighton taps her cork sandal against the pavement. “I’ll order.”

“I know.”

“I’ll get it too. You can find us someplace to sit.”

“We can go back to the apartment.”

“I don’t want to be there.”

I bite my tongue. She’s pissed. I get that. I deserve it.

If she needs time to deal with that, fine.

But I need to know.

She motions to another couple sitting on the curb. “Let’s grab that spot.”

“All right.” I’m being a hypocrite—holding onto all this instead of explaining it to her. But I don’t know how to put it into my words. I don’t know how to make her understand.

It’s not that I still love Penny.

It’s not that I want her.

It’s the scar tissue. I don’t know how to heal it. I don’t know if it’s possible to heal it.

Am I going to walk around struggling to trust people for the rest of my life?

Wondering if I’ll ever be enough for a woman?

Looking for evidence in every sigh or frown?

I find an empty spot on the curb a block away. Watch Leighton turn on the charm as she orders and pays.

She’s magnetic. Nobody can resist her smile. Or her laugh. Or the way she curls her hair around her finger in that I’m thinking about you naked way.

She steps aside. Joins the dozen people waiting in front of a closed furniture shop.

Her hips sway as she shifts her weight between her heels. Her nervous gestures stay the same. She keeps tapping her nails against her thighs. She keeps avoiding my gaze.

A short guy picks up his order. Drowns a burrito in red salsa.

A tall guy squeezes lime on his tacos.

A curvy woman adorns an enchilada plate with cilantro.

Leighton turns to me. Her eyes meet mine. They’re still asking for something. And I still don’t know what it is.

We stare like that forever.

Until the happy couple steps in front of her to grab their takeout order. They laugh like they’re the first people to discover love.

I want to hate them, but I can’t. I remember that feeling. I don’t miss Penny, but I miss the intoxication. I miss being able to let my guard down. Being able to love someone without wondering when the other shoe is gonna drop.

Leighton knows my head is a mess.

But that’s different than living in it.

I need to explain this to her. Or convince her it doesn’t matter.

But it does.

And I don’t know when I’ll feel normal.

If I’ll ever feel normal.

She taps her heels together as the guy calls her name. Her eyes fix on me. She motions come here.

That defeats the purpose of us splitting up, but I do it anyway.

The taco truck casts yellow light over the beige pavement. It turns her purple hair pink. Bounces off her white tank-top.

A million things flit through my head. Come back to my place. Spend the night in my bed. Let’s replace that ugly memory.

But I can’t ask that.

’Cause I can’t offer it. Not yet.

She turns to the window. Smiles as the woman in the truck hands her two plates of tacos.

I take the bottles of water.

Leighton turns to me and nods to the salsa bar. “Watch and learn.”

“I’m studying under the master.”

“You’d like to be under me, wouldn’t you?” The joke doesn’t land. Her smile stays sad.

She shakes it off as she sets the plates on the silver bar. She picks up the tongs and grabs slices of limes two at a time.

“Chicken is perfect with citrus.” She stacks eight slices on the plate.

“That great?”

“Yes. That great.” She grabs a green container of salsa. “Traditional salsa verde is perfect.” She drowns the plate in salsa.

“It’s gonna be a mess.”

“Life is a mess. Grab a fork if you can’t handle it.”

I do. And napkins.

She laughs. “That was a dare.”

“What if I need my hands clean?”

She presses her lips together. For a second, her eyes meet mine. Then they’re on the second plate. “I went easy on you. Steak and chicken. No tongue. Not even chorizo.”

“You’re kind.”

“Thank you, I know.” She grabs an orange-red salsa. “Chipotle brings out the flavor best. Trust me. I’ve tested it.” She drowns these tacos in the orange-red sauce. “But we need a little of this—” She grabs a different green salsa. “Avocado salsa. The nectar of the gods.”

“That why you use so much?”

“Don’t hate until you’ve tried it.” She uses tongs to shower the plates in cilantro. “Now, they’re perfect. Trust me. You’ll be begging for seconds.”

“Guess you’ll still get me begging.”

Her eyes go to the concrete. “Ryan. Can we… Let’s just eat, okay?”

“Yeah.” Hunger doesn’t exactly make conversation easier.

She follows me down the street. Past my previous spot. “Where are you going?”

“It’s a surprise.” I lead her around the corner.

It’s a dozen blocks to the nearest park. We walk them in silence.

The air between us stays heavy.

We step under the yellow glow of a streetlight. Take seats on an empty concrete bench.

Leighton sets the plate between us.

I hand over her water bottle.

Her fingers brush mine as she takes it. “I forgot about this place.”

“I run here sometimes.”

“It’s small.” She looks at the empty basketball court. It’s late enough the lights are off. Kids are home.

No one is here but us.

The world is ours.

But, right now, there isn’t an our. There’s her and me and a million walls between us.

“I want to explain this to you,” I say.

“You don’t have to.” She grabs a chicken taco and brings it to her lips. “I understand.”

“You don’t.”

“You walked in on your girlfriend fucking another guy in your bed. Of course you’re gonna feel weird about the bed.” She picks up a lime, squeezes it over her taco, does it again. “I’m sure you’re more tired of thinking about her than I am.”

“Yeah.”

“So let’s eat.”

She doesn’t want to talk about this.

But I’ve only got two ways to convince her. And it’s not like things are gonna go different if I take her back to my bed a second time.

I can fuck her in my bed. I don’t have any problem getting hard.

But there’s no way I’m fucking Leighton with that image in my head.

And there’s no way to erase it.

Leighton groans as she licks salsa from her fingers. “Perfect. Right?”

I take my first bite. Soft tortilla. Tender chicken. Tangy salsa. Just enough cilantro. “It is.”

“If you don’t eat faster, I’ll finish yours.”

“You can.”

She shakes her head. “The whole point of this is teaching you how to enjoy Mexican cuisine.”

“So I can pick up takeout when you’re busy?”

“Well, if you insist.” She grabs a steak taco. Bites off half. Chews. Swallows. “But I doubt you’ll give up the chance to cook me dinner.”

“You don’t think I’ll get over it?”

“Not with how obsessed you are.”

“You don’t worry I’ll stop wanting to take care of you?”

She licks cilantro from her finger. “No. I…” Her eyes go to the ground. “I worry you’re going to get to the wedding, see her walking down the aisle, and snap. Do a Dustin Hoffman.”

“Huh?”

“The Graduate. He’s lusting after the girl next door all summer. While he’s sleeping with her mom. He shows up at her wedding and whisks her away. Then they get on a bus.”

Oh. That movie. “And the camera stays on them. It goes from romantic to awkward. They realize they made a mistake.”

“You know it?”

“It’s a famous scene.”

“You don’t watch movies.”

“We watch three a week.”

“I guess…” She taps her nail against her thigh. “You can’t have sex in your bed, Ryan. The place where you’ve slept every night for the last year. I get that it would be confusing. But you’ve had a year. Why not get a new bed?”

“That wouldn’t—”

“Or a new apartment? Why not erase those memories from your life?”

It’s a fair point. Even if—“I have rent control.”

“If you were broke, that would explain it. But you have plenty.” She takes another bite. Chews. Swallows. “I get it. Change is hard.”

“I want shit to change. The last year, I’ve grown more than I did the eight years before. I figured out what the fuck I liked to do. I figured out what I wanted.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to run the shop until the day I die. I want to take care of someone I love. Start a family.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I always saw that with her. But now I just see it.”

“You want kids?”

I nod. “They’ll rebel by getting MBAs and wearing Abercrombie.”

She laughs. “God, could you imagine the two of us for parents?”

“How would you have felt if your mom approved of your pink hair?”

“Mortified.” She picks up a chicken taco. “It was awful enough that she got over it fast. She was complimenting me by week two.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She thought I was ‘so creative’ for the way I expressed myself through my clothes. Even when my boobs were about to pop out.”

“Like that?”

Sadness returns to her smile. “I guess I wanted to… It was petty. Stupid.”

“Worked.”

“You’re thinking about me naked?”

“Now, yeah.” My gaze settles on her chest. Fuck. Her tits defy description. “You’re making me lose my train of thought.”

“Take some personal responsibility.”

“I’ll buy you a new top when I destroy that one.”

“Ryan.” Her laugh lifts to a giggle. “Don’t tease me. Not after that.”

“What’s the tease?”

“You’d go here?”

“It’s empty.” I stare into her blue-green eyes. “Unless you’re chicken.”

“It’s a crowded area.”

“Should I make a back-ay noise?”

“You just did.” She picks up another taco. “Besides, you’re bluffing.”

“Try me.”

She shakes her head. “Another time. I need to nurse my ego.”

That’s fair.

She takes a bite. Chews. Swallows. “I want a family too. But I don’t know if I’d be any good at it.” She finishes her taco, plants her hands on the concrete, and leans back to look up at the stars. “I don’t exactly have a worthy role model.”

“You can learn.”

“Maybe.”

“You can talk about it.”

“Another time. I’ve had enough baggage for tonight.”

“You can still spend the night.”

“I know.”

But she doesn’t.

She doesn’t know how much I need her. How much I want to be all hers. How much I want to fix this.

There’s some way to prove it to her.

I just need to figure it out.