Falling heavily into the chair next to mine, James rolled his shoulders and tugged at his collar, releasing the top two buttons of his shirt.
“Can we go out tonight?” he asked suddenly. “Dinner at The Landslide?”
“Sure.” I spoke gently, “Are you alright?”
He ran a palm over his face, rings on his middle finger and thumb catching the light from the fluorescents. “You know me too well. That’s why I can’t stop thinking—” He paused and stilled his movements.
He seemed so anxious I started to worry, a pit forming in my stomach. “You haven’t changed your mind about going to the reunion, have you?”
“Huh? Oh…no, it’s not that. Even though I probably should.” James stared at me, and I saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. “After this weekend, we just…have a lot to talk about.
My breath stuck in my throat. Did he mean our close moment on the couch? I hoped he didn’t regret it.
I was working up the courage to ask when Coach Hurley came into the lounge carrying his ancient red Igloo lunch cooler. He took off his hat and sat down at our table.
“Not surprised to see you two together,” he enthused. “Evidently you got that crooked strand of lights all fixed up?” Coach winked as he spoke to James. “I’m sure there are lots of things you can help Ms. Davis with now.” Another wink.
Clearly, Coach hadn’t read the mood before he’d sat down. Mr. Bailey huffed from behind his newspaper, crinkling it dramatically before getting up and leaving, shaking his head at all of us.
James made no reply. I sat rigidly in my chair.
Coach hmphed. “Alright, alright. I can see you guys are trying to keep it on the down-low, as the students would say.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he held up a hand. “Save it, Marley. You’ll never convince me. But it’s none of my business.” He pulled his Coleman Creek Royals baseball cap back over his head and stood up, grabbing his cooler. “I’m going to eat on the benches outside the athletic office.” Then he leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “You’ve been an absolute angel these past years, with your mom. And at this school. I want you to have…lights. We all do. No one deserves solid lights more than you.”
I didn’t know how to reply, so I merely dipped my chin. Coach’s entrance had been ill-timed. But his presence and obvious rooting interest for me and James as a couple relieved some of the thickness in the air.
“What did he whisper to you?” James asked after Coach left.
“Nothing. He just reminded me I’m not the only one who cares about Christmas decorations.”
James directed a puzzled glance my way but didn’t ask for clarification. He returned to the topic Coach had interrupted. “Can we meet at seven?”
“See you there.”
I arrived atThe Landslide fifteen minutes early. There were some other bars in and near town, but this was the local favorite, situated just outside the business corridor and close to the highway. Its small dance floor functioned as the closest thing Coleman Creek had to a nightlife scene.
The owners had lived in town forever, and they’d plastered the walls with their love for it. Black and white photos of Main Street circa the 1950s were interspersed with team pictures of Coleman Creek High School football squads. There were copies of elementary school yearbook pages, soldiers in military dress, a framed watercolor painting of an old town diner, and corkboards full of pinned up images of patrons enjoying the bar. A faded picture of my mom and dad sitting in a corner booth had been tacked up to a wall near the restrooms for two decades.
My stomach danced with nerves as I sat down at a two-top table near the ancient jukebox. Why had James asked me to dinner? Did he want to forget our moment? Or pursue something more?
I ignored the menu I’d long-since memorized and tugged at my sweater. It was one of my most subdued. Just Rudolph’s face with a giant red pom for a nose. I had a fond memory of my mother wearing it to the high school talent show the year Miranda and her friends had performed an acoustic guitar version of “Last Christmas.”
I’d considered dressing to impress. But James already knew about the sweaters. He would expect nothing less—a fact confirmed when he walked in a few minutes later, took one look at me and declared, “That one is actually sort of cute.”
“Wanna borrow it?”
“Don’t tempt me, Marley. I already have my eye on the one you wore earlier today.” He smiled, seeming much more relaxed than at lunch.
“That was just a boring Seahawks holiday sweater.”
“I know.” He reached down and patted his rounded belly. “Not that I could fit into your clothes.”
Considering my newfound awareness of his self-consciousness, I had no ready reply to that comment. A few beats of silence passed before I decided the best course was to act the way I’d always done when we’d gone out. “Should we order an appetizer? I’m starving.”
“Sure.”
Katy Baumbeck, who’d been two years behind me in high school, came over to take our order. I recalled her husband was out of town for a few weeks dealing with his ailing parents in Arizona. I inquired about them and her twin toddlers before James and I ordered beers and mozzarella sticks.
“Do you know everyone in Coleman Creek?” James glanced at Katy’s retreating form.
