The Stuff in the Middle - 1. Chapter 1

The day that changed my life forever started like every other. It ended the same way, too. It was the stuff that was sandwiched in the middle that made all the difference.

Hi. I’m Nick. Nicholas Michael Anderson, to be exact. For the record, just to be clear, I have no problem with my days starting and ending like every other day. There is something comforting about routine. Work, home, maybe the gym, hang out with friends. Rinse. Repeat.

Strangers passing me on the street wouldn’t give me more than a cursory glance—an average-looking twenty-seven-year-old who may or may not be better off than his peers. I have a good job, although there’s nothing exciting about being a Transportation Specialist for a high-end marble dealer who buys some pretty kick-ass slabs from quarries all over the U.S. before distributing them to their buyers. But here I am, coordinating the movement of products from place to place. At least it pays well enough for me to have my own apartment. Having no significant other or kids to tie me down helps. I do have a cat named Martini, who keeps me company. She’s a handful. I wasn’t warned before she was foisted off on me.

Enough of the boring stuff. You’re here for the real story.

Ready or not, here it comes.

*** 

I blew a few raspberries, trying to dislodge the stray piece of cat hair I felt on my tongue. “Dammit, Martini. Why do you have to shed?” I gave up trying to pull my sock up and pinched my tongue a few times until I snagged the errant hair. Gotcha, you little bastard!

You’re lucky you’re cute,” I told the silver-gray cat, picking her up and touching her nose to mine. She meowed indignantly, swishing her fluffy tail back and forth. “Fine.” I kissed her face, then let her down, and she sauntered across my bedroom, tail held high, and out the door without a backward glance.

“Why did I ever let myself get talked into getting a cat?” I asked my reflection as I brushed off a few more feline hairs from my button-down. I knew the answer. My best friend’s mom had a Maine coon cat who had a litter of nine kittens. She begged everyone and their uncle to take one. Jonah didn’t give me a choice. One day, he showed up with a ten-week-old ball of fluff and said, “Here. Mum says she’s yours.” What could I do?

I gave myself a last once-over in the mirror. I consider myself an average-looking guy. Six feet tall, a hundred and eighty pounds, give or take. My medium brown hair was short on the sides and in the back, a little longer on top. My blue eyes hid behind a pair of wire-framed glasses because fall allergies made my eyes itchy and irritated my contacts when I wore them.

In the kitchen, I poured coffee into a travel mug, made sure Martini had kibble and fresh water, and then grabbed my phone and keys. Stepping outside, I paused, inhaling deeply. The fall air was crisp, and the smell of fallen leaves brought back memories of jumping into colossal leaf piles as a kid. The cloudless sky was bright blue. It was a gorgeous day.

Now, every decision we make affects the next decision and so forth. My route to the office took me one of two ways. One–through the center of town. It was shorter mileage-wise, but there was more traffic, so it sometimes took more time. Two–the longer way skirted around town and allowed me to drive faster, plus there was only one traffic light. That was the route I chose.

I hit ‘play’ on my audiobook, Dean Koontz’s Intensity. It was one of his earlier novels, but it was scaring the hell out of me. I was a little absorbed in the story as I slowed down in the right lane to stop at the only traffic signal on my route. I caught a blurry movement on my left, and then a loud BOOM shook me in my seat. The unmistakable crunch of metal hitting metal startled me out of my reverie.

A large pickup truck slid across the intersection, and a midsize sedan spun in circles toward me. Have you ever experienced time standing still? At that moment, I did. It seemed the world around me had completely stopped for a few seconds. Then snap! Things returned to normal. Shit! I held my breath, and my ass puckered as the vehicle's front bumper came to a halt less than six inches from my car. The air left my lungs in an unsteady quiver.

I blinked, and my hand went to my chest. My heartbeat was racing so fast that I thought I would be chasing it down the street any second. I looked ahead and saw the car was in bad shape. Just as I wondered about the driver, I saw movement behind the rapidly deflating airbag. I quickly unbuckled, and I don’t know why, but I jumped out and slid across my car's hood like I was in some action movie.

The driver’s airbag had obscured their face. I knew better than to try to move them, but I could at least make sure they were okay. Before I could do that, they pushed the cumbersome material away and swung their legs out of the car.

“Hey! Don’t move! You might be hurt,” I told him.

The man looked up at me, shielding his eyes against the sun. “I’m alright.”

“Maybe, but why don’t you sit tight until the EMTs can look you over? I’m going to go check on the other driver.”

I walked to the other side of the intersection. The driver of the pickup was pacing back and forth and muttering to himself as I approached. He seemed agitated.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He jumped when he saw me. “Oh, man! You gotta back me up. You saw that guy run the light, right?”

I didn’t see anything, but I wasn’t going to tell him that. As a matter of fact, I had a dashcam and decided to look at the footage before the police got there. Something in his behavior didn’t seem right.

“Let’s not worry about that right now. Are you hurt?” He shook his head. I looked around and saw several people milling about, a few talking on phones. Sirens in the distance grew louder.

I returned to my car and reviewed the last few minutes of the dashcam footage. It clearly showed the pickup truck running the red light and slamming into the sedan. Seeing what happened sealed my decision to turn it over to the deputies.

I went back to the guy in the sedan. This time I crouched down so he could see me without being blinded by the sun. As we finally got a good look at each other, recognition hit.

“Nick?”

“Brock?”

Brock Daniels and I knew each other in high school. He was the one who got away. We ran in the same general friend group but never hung out one-on-one together. I had a massive crush on him but had been too chicken to do anything about it. After we graduated, Brock went away for college; the last I heard, he had some kind of travel job.

“Oh my god, it is you!” he exclaimed.

If my cheeks could get any hotter, I’d bend the Pope over the nearest church pew.

“What are you doing back in town?”

Brock grinned. “I’m moving back.”

Stunned, I didn’t reply. Before I could gather my thoughts, two EMTs came over and asked who was involved in the crash. They immediately focused on Brock when I told them I was only a witness.

While Brock was being tended to, I excused myself and got the attention of one of the sheriff’s deputies, letting him know I had footage of the accident. I could have left after my statement, but Brock’s sedan wouldn’t be driving anywhere, so I hung around. The next hour was a blur of statements, calls to the insurance companies, and tow trucks coming to clear the intersection and clean up the scattered debris. Brock was declared fit and advised to follow up with his physician if he didn’t feel well later.

The driver of the truck, however, had a suspended license. Not only that, but the vehicle wasn’t his. It belonged to his brother, who hadn’t given him permission to use it. The guy was arrested and taken away in a cruiser. Yikes! That was going to be one awkward Thanksgiving dinner.

As the wrecker drove away with the crumpled remnants of his car, Brock looked around and sighed.

I chuckled. “Need a ride?”

“How’d you guess?”

“You look like the sort of guy who doesn’t have a plan B.”

Brock threw his head back and laughed. The sun highlighted his almost shoulder-length black hair, almost making it look dark blue. In high school, he had been cute. As an adult, he was incredibly handsome. His chest and shoulders had filled out nicely. Where he used to have boyish features, now his jaw was chiseled, and he had cheekbones to die for. In addition to the black hair, he had brown eyes that showed signs of a few laugh lines at the corners. Straight teeth were a testimony to years of orthodontia as a teenager. He had facial hair but kept it closely cropped. I had to admit time had treated him well.

He followed me to my car. As we got in, I turned and asked, “So where to?”

“Shit. I guess my sister’s house. I’ll have to see if I can use her car for a few hours. It’ll suck because she’s got the kids and needs to pick them up from school and do all their afternoon crap with them. Either that, or I’ll just reschedule. Dammit, I was hoping to get this taken care of. Fucking idiot running a red light.”

I was sure he was talking to himself instead of me. It was cute.

“Brock?”

He turned to me, embarrassed he’d been caught ranting and raving.

“Sorry. I had a few important things to do this afternoon, and now I have to postpone everything.”

I bit my bottom lip. I really didn’t know Brock anymore. He could be an asshole, but I doubted it. Which is why I offered, “I can help you out.”

“Oh, thanks. But you don’t need to do that.”

“I know I don’t need to. I want to.”

“Don’t you have to get to work?”

“I already called and told them what was going on. I can do what I need to remotely. There’s nothing major that needs to be moved, anyway, so no, I don’t have to go in.”

“Well, my appointment isn’t until after lunch, so what do you say you let me buy you something to eat first? We can catch up, and then you can Uber me around town this afternoon?”

“Only if you promise to give me a five-star review.”

“Deal!” Brock’s smile sent a warmth straight through me that had nothing to do with the sun shining on us.

I drove us to the one place where I knew we could sit and have a decent meal and not be rushed out the door the minute we were done.

Harry’s Diner was as basic as they came. Booths lined the outside wall, and round stools stood like sentinels in front of the counter, running almost the length of the building. Behind the counter were the soda fountain, coffee station, and the pass-through to the kitchen, where the waitresses shoved the orders in and the cooks shoved the food out.

There was even a jukebox in the corner beside the alcove, near the bathrooms. Instead of records, though, the music was digital. Instead of records spinning on a turnstile, Harry was probably spinning in his grave.

Even though it was almost noon, the diner was only three-quarters full. Harry’s was off the beaten path and more popular with the breakfast crowd.

The waitress greeted them as she topped off the coffee at a nearby table. “Hello, boys. Sit anywhere.”

We slid into a booth, and I shrugged off my jacket.

Julie, as her nametag read, handed us menus and took our drink order. When she came back with two glasses of water and two coffees, I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich with bacon and grilled onions with a side of fries. Brock ordered a fully loaded cheeseburger and fries.

Brock leaned back, slinging one arm on the back of the booth. “So, what have you been up to?”

I shifted, trying to get more comfortable. After several failed attempts, I leaned against the window and pulled a knee under me. “Not a whole hell of a lot. I coordinate transportation for a high-end marble company. I keep the product on the move, making sure it gets to where it needs to go. I live on my own. Well, not exactly. I’ve got a cat. A Maine coon. Her name’s Martini.”

“Martini? How cute! How’d you come up with that?”

I rolled my eyes. “This is embarrassing. My best friend, Jonah, he’s the one who made me take the fuzzball. His mom’s cat had the litter. After he brought her over, I tried to give her back. I didn’t want a cat. Jonah wasn’t having any part of it. Besides, his mom wouldn’t have let him come home with her. It was a Saturday night, and we were supposed to go out, but now we were stuck staying in, taking care of this kitten. Jonah decided we could drink just as easily at my place.”

“What’s so bad about that?”

“Nothing. Except Jonah loves to experiment with booze if you let him. So, while I was busy setting up the litter box and figuring out where to put her food and water bowls, he was whipping up all sorts of concoctions. We got a little drunk as the night went on, and I lost the cat. Well, not exactly lost her, but lost track of her. We spent an hour looking for her. I swear, I had no idea how a three-pound kitten could disappear in a seven-hundred-square-foot apartment.”

Brock chuckled, and the lines around his eyes crinkled.

“It wasn’t funny at the time. Especially considering we were shit-faced and should have realized she must have curled up and gone to sleep.”

“Is that what she did?”

“Yep. In an empty martini glass. Voila! The name Martini.”

“Ha! That’s the best pet name story I’ve heard!”

“Eh. Maybe. I did learn that Maine coon kittens who fall asleep in empty martini glasses end up with sticky fur. I also learned kittens have sharp claws and don’t like being bathed at two o’clock in the morning.”

Brock’s shoulders shook as he laughed harder. It was contagious, and we were still chuckling when Julie arrived with our food.

“Anyway,” I said, reaching for the ketchup. “That’s about the extent of the excitement of my life. What about you? What happened to you after graduation? I know you went off to college, but I didn’t hear much after that.”

Brock took the ketchup when I was done, squirted some on his fries, and answered, “I went to the University of New Hampshire for a year. College life wasn’t for me. I wasn’t into the constant partying and drinking. The fraternity system turned me off. There wasn’t anything I liked about it other than a photography class I took. I didn’t want to waste my parents’ money, and they understood when I told them I wasn’t going back. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I didn’t want to come back here either. I felt there was something better out there for me.”

“Did you find it?”

A shadow crossed Brock’s expression. “I thought I did. I thought I had found my ‘person’. I was wrong.”

Instinctively, I reached across the chipped Formica tabletop and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Eh, don’t be. I was too young. It was a lesson learned for me. Besides, without that relationship, I would never have developed my passion, photography. The course I took in college piqued my interest, but Jordan taught me to make a living with it.”

My ears perked up. Jordan? Granted, it could be a male or female name. It didn’t necessarily mean Brock was into guys. Let’s not jump to conclusions here, Nikko.

“He taught me everything he knew, and I worked with him at his studio for a year until we broke up.”

Score one for the team! My inner gay flame lit up inside me like the rocket's red glare.

“Then what happened?”

“I went out on a limb and applied for an opening for a spot as a field photographer for Concierge magazine.”

“The travel magazine?”

“The very same. I liked their concept. They’re a cross between National Geographic and Conde Nast. Picture naked native African tribeswomen staying at a Ritz Carlton and having their spa day immortalized in pictures.”

I snorted. “Interesting concept. You must have seen a lot of amazing people and places.”

Brock wiped his mouth with his paper napkin. “I did. I loved every minute of it, too. But, over the past year, I’ve felt something tugging at me to come back home. I’m tired of living out of a suitcase. I’m tired of not knowing what time zone I’m in. I don’t want to miss any more birthdays or Christmases. So, I decided to come home and open my own photography studio.”

“Wow! That’s wonderful! Won’t that be a big change from what you were doing?”

Brock looked at me funny. I couldn’t decipher what was going on behind those beautiful brown eyes. Finally, he said, “Change is what you make of it. There’s no sense in waiting until it’s too late before you do something. After all, a doctor doesn’t wait for the autopsy before he makes a diagnosis or prescribes medication.”

It was an odd way of looking at things, but I realized he was right.

The conversation turned to mutual friends and acquaintances. It was a who’s who of who was doing what. I had more updated information on our old classmates than Brock did. Other than for business purposes, he didn’t maintain much of a social media presence. I didn’t have the time or inclination to be obsessed with likes and comments, but I understood how much they swayed our generation. I had a few friends whose phones were glued to their hands.

Brock’s appointment with his realtor was in the section of town that had once housed the city’s mills down by the river. The old buildings had been crumbling and in total disrepair by the 1980s. They sat vacant for another twenty years due to a dispute over environmental hazards and who was responsible for the cleanup. It wasn’t until 2005 that the lawsuit even got off the ground. By the time it was sorted out and the area was declared safe, the only thing salvageable was the outer walls of three central mills. It took six years to renovate and develop the property into a mixed-use complex of luxury apartments, shops, and restaurants.

Brock and I got out of the car and strolled toward a pretty woman in her late thirties, wearing a navy blue skirt with a white blouse.

“Mr. Daniels?” she inquired, her eyes darting between us.

“Please, it’s just Brock,” he answered, extending his hand. “I hope you don’t mind. I brought my friend, Nick. My car was totaled this morning, and he was nice enough to chauffeur me around today.”

“Oh no! I hope you’re okay, and of course, it’s alright. It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Amber Richardson. I’m sure you’ll positively love the space.” Amber’s voice reminded me of Dolores Umbridge in the Harry Potter movies. Only she was much younger and a lot more attractive.

She led us through the two-story space, highlighting the various features, often gesturing with her hands like she was Vanna White at the letter board. It seemed like she was trying a little too hard.

I felt a little like a fish out of water and stood back as Amber and Brock discussed the storefront. While they debated lighting and square footage, I wandered to the back of the area. A door led to a large deck overlooking the river. It was nice.

“What do you think, Nick?” asked Brock when I meandered back in.

I raised my eyebrows. “Huh? Uh– I don’t know anything about photography studios, but I like the back deck.”

Amber laughed, though it had a fake quality to it. “These units are moving quickly, Mr. Daniels. I have two others I can show you, but they are smaller, and the location is not as prominent.”

There it was, the classic "create urgency and make the buyer think they have to decide right away", tactic, I thought, wondering what Brock was going to do. It did seem like a nice space.

“Thank you, Amber. That won’t be necessary.”

I watched the girl’s eyes light up as she honed in on the deal.

“But… I’m going to pass. I like the space, but the location isn’t the right choice for the demographic market I want to target.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my expression schooled as I watched Amber’s face go from peach to white to pink to red. Even the tips of her ears were flushed. Honey, you better never play poker.

“Thank you for your time,” Brock said politely, ushering me toward the door.

“Um, y-yes. Th-thank you for meeting with me,” she stammered. “If I can help you find something else, please don’t hesitate to reach out.”

I practically heard the whistling of her balloon deflating as we walked back to my car.

“Sorry about that,” Brock said. “I didn’t think she was going to be so hoity-toity.”

I laughed. “She was a piece of work. It’s too bad. It was a nice space. ”

“Yeah, I know. You liked the deck.”

We looked at each other and burst out laughing.

When we calmed down, I asked, “So, what are you looking for?”

“I want something fun. I don’t need a high-end converted mill shopping complex to market my business in. I don’t know what I was picturing, but this wasn’t it.”

I watched him for a moment. I could see he was passionate about what he did. “Tell me more about how you want someone like me to see your business. I know nothing about photography, so tell me what makes you–you.”

“I want to be inclusive with my photography,” he began. “I envision bringing several talented photographers onboard to do most of the heavy work. I’ll still do shoots, but not as often. I picture engagement photoshoots, weddings, senior pictures, and any milestone event. I want to be able to offer something for everyone, no matter what their budget is. So many photographers will only do expensive packages. It’s not about the price. It’s about the quality of the work. I can give a low-income, single, working mom something she can afford. It might be only one eight by ten, but it will be something.

“I’ve worked hard the past seven years. The magazine paid me well, and they covered most of my expenses, too. I was able to save my money, and with the help of my parents, I invested some of it wisely and made a little nest egg. I’m by no means rich, but I can afford to open my studio and cover my operating costs for up to a year or so. If I’m not making a profit by then, I’ll reevaluate.”

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this, haven’t you?”

“It’s more than that, Nick. I’ve done my research and looked at the market. Plenty of hours have gone into cost analysis, demographic modeling, and competition mapping. You name it, and I’ve had my finger on it. I had written an entire business proposal before I called home to let my parents know I was considering doing this. I don’t need to take out any loans. Truthfully, I don’t even need any investors, although my dad and my brother are both willing. All that’s left is finding the right place.”

“You said you want something ‘fun.’ What do you consider fun?”

“Fuck. If I knew that, I’d be up and running already.”

I laughed. “Would you mind if I butted in? I might have an idea, but I need to make a phone call.”

Brock tilted his head. “Sure, call away.”

I stepped out of the car for a little privacy in case this didn’t go as planned. Opening my phone, I pulled up my contacts and tapped one, letting it ring in my ear.

“Nick? What’s wrong, darling? Is Martini okay?”

Of course, she’d be concerned about the damn cat. Jonah’s mom always put the cats first.

“Yeah, Mum. The brat’s fine. I was calling about something else. Do you still have the old circus office building available?” She was a realtor, although most of what she listed was residential. Jonah mentioned she had the building I had in mind last weekend when we went hiking with a few other friends.

“Yes, dear. Do you know someone who’s interested?”

“Yep. Can you meet us there?”

“Give me forty-five minutes. There are twenty minutes left on the wash cycle.”

“Sure thing, Mum.” The woman wouldn’t make any exceptions for her cats or laundry. If there was a load in the washer– you waited until it was done and could be transferred to the dryer before going anywhere.

I slid back into the driver’s side, unable to keep the smile off my face.

“You look like the cat that ate the canary.”

“Maybe. Save judgment for a little bit. Are you up for a ride?”

Brock chuckled. “You’re driving. I don’t have a choice.”

“That’s true.” I grinned as I pressed the start button, firing up the ignition.

The office space was only twenty minutes from where we were, but I took us on a meandering route through the city, going around in a large circle. I knew Brock caught on when, ten minutes in, we passed City Hall and its clock tower for the second time, and he mocked, “Hey kids, look, it’s Big Ben” in reference to the scene in National Lampoon’s European Vacation when Clark Griswold gets stuck in the roundabout and drives past the iconic landmark over and over.

Precisely forty-five minutes after hanging up with Jonah’s mom, I pulled into a well-developed commercial district lined with a few strip malls and restaurants along both sides of the street. It wasn’t far from the county medical center, so various medical offices were scattered throughout the retail area.

The building I zoned in on stood alone next to a row of stores, end-capped by a sports bar. It was circular, and its stripes and peaked roof made it stand out. It looked like a giant circus tent.

Brock’s eyes lit up when he caught sight of the bright colors. “You gotta be shittin’ me!”

I shook my head, glad I took the gamble. “Nope.” My lips popped the 'P' sound, and I grinned.

Florida may have been the winter home of P.T. Barnum back in the day, but my town was once the headquarters for the largest circus outfit in New England. Mayfield Magic was founded by the Mayfield family in 1845. Seven generations performed circus acts up until the pandemic shut everything down. Like so many other businesses, they didn’t survive. Much of it was due to a lack of interest from the current generation in continuing the traditions, not just a microscopic plague.

“Nick!”

I swung around at the sound of my name. A smile split my face when I saw Jonah’s mom. It was wiped off my face just as quickly when she brushed right past me without a glance.

“Brock Daniels, is that you?” she exclaimed, grabbing him and pulling him in for a hug. “I swear you kids make me feel eighty. Look at you! Your mom didn’t say anything about you coming home!”

“Hello, Mrs. Meegan.” Brock kissed her cheek dutifully. “It’s good to see you too. My homecoming was sort of last-minute. I’ve only been here a couple of days.”

She patted his cheek. “Well. No matter. It’s so good to have you back. Are you staying? Well, of course you are! Why else would you be looking at property? Now, come on, let’s make hay while the sun shines. Nicholas! What the hell are you waiting for, boy? Let’s go!”

Brock’s jaw dropped.

I stepped in front of him and pushed it back up with my index finger. “You heard the woman.”

We followed Mum, as nearly everyone called her. She wouldn’t answer to anything else. Her short heels clacked across the floor as she strode across the lobby. Dust swirled in clouds around her feet in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the windows.

The space was deceivingly roomy. Mum allowed Brock to wander around on his own.

She pulled my sleeve. “He’s cute.”

“Mum, stop. He just got back. I’m sure he’s not looking to jump into a relationship.”

“Pfftt.” She blew a raspberry at me. “You can’t spend the rest of your life alone.”

“I’m not alone,” I countered.

“Martini doesn’t count.”

“Pfftt.” If she could do it, so could I.

“Nich–”

“Shush.” I made a zip-it motion with my hand.

Bad move. Bad, bad move.

I felt the cartilage of my left ear burn as she grabbed it and twisted the flexible appendage, doubling me over.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!”

“Nicholas Michael Anderson, you did not just shush me!” She gave another twist.

Still holding on for dear life, she calmly said, “So help me, if you ever do that again, it will be the last thing you ever do. Understood?”

“Yes, Mum.”

After one last twist to drive home her point, she let go.

Straightening up, I didn’t dare touch my ear. Never show a sign of weakness. It was the number one lesson we learned as kids.

I stood stoically as we waited for Brock to finish looking around. Ten minutes later, thankfully, my ear stopped throbbing, and he returned, grinning from ear to ear.

“I love it. But let’s talk price and details.”

I excused myself and stepped outside. I felt it wasn’t any of my business to know the details of someone else’s financial transactions. It was a good sign when they came out a few minutes later, and both were smiling.

Mum gave Brock her card and told him to call her tomorrow to make an appointment to sign the paperwork. She gave me the stink-eye.

We watched her pull away, and as soon as she was out of sight, Brock grabbed my arms and jumped up and down. I couldn’t help getting caught up in his enthusiasm. I jumped with him, and then I didn’t know what came over me, but I pulled him into a tight bear hug.

It wasn’t until I realized I was getting turned on that I jerked away abruptly. I tried to cover. “Oh my god! You must be so excited!”

Brock cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I am! The rent is half of what the space at the mill was, and there’s twice as much room. There’s a small apartment that comes with it. Plus, the family owns the building and is considering selling it. They’ll lock in the lease for a year, and then if they decide to sell, they’ll give me the first option to buy, as well as count forty percent of my lease payments toward the down payment. And I get to make whatever renovations I want as long as I don’t change the structure of the building, which I would never do.”

“I’m so happy for you! It sounds like you’re getting exactly what you wanted.”

Brock bit his bottom lip. “Yeah, I am. What about you, Nick? Is there anything you want that you should just tell yourself to go for?”

How was I supposed to answer that? Yeah, you, Brock. I’ve had a crush on you since high school, and now that you’re back, I’d love to ask you out!

Instead, I shrugged. “I’m a pretty simple guy. I don’t need much.”

Brock’s brown eyes caught mine, and for a moment, I was lost. “It’s not always about things,” he said softly. “Sometimes it's about taking a leap of faith and putting yourself out there to do something you don’t normally do.”

I nodded. My brain still had no clue how to force my mouth to form the words, ‘Would you like to go on a date with me?’

Instead, I cleared my throat and said, “Is there anything else you need to do?”

He shook his head. “No. I’m sure you’ve got stuff you need to take care of. I'd appreciate it if you could bring me to my folks.”

“Sure thing.” I dropped the car into drive and pulled out carefully into traffic. Brock’s parents lived fifteen minutes from his soon-to-be studio.

I parked in the driveway.

“Give me your phone,” Brock ordered. I unlocked it and handed it over, biting back a smile as he programmed his number and texted himself.

When he finished, he handed me back the phone and smiled. “Thanks for everything. You earned a five-star review.”

I laughed. “Anytime.”

Brock opened his mouth and shut it again, then got out of the car with a wave.

I pulled away slowly, mentally kicking myself for not having the courage to ask him out.

Martini wound herself between my feet as soon as I entered my apartment, loudly meowing as if she hadn’t eaten in a month. I checked her water and kibble, gave her a couple of spoons of the wet food she liked, and fixed myself a sandwich.

I ate my roast beef and cheese, then kicked back with my feet up on the recliner, sitting in the semi-darkness, replaying the day's events. Martini jumped up, parked her fluffy silver body on my chest, and turned her motor on. Her purring lulled me into a stupor.

I couldn’t help but compare my boring life to Brock’s more adventuresome one. I wondered what it must be like to see so many exotic places. I wasn’t a complete novice when it came to travel. I had a passport, and I’d been out of the country. Twice. Once to Canada on a long weekend trip to Toronto to see the Red Sox play the Blue Jays. Jonah’s boss footed the bill for the hotel, meals, and booze. All we had to do was split the gas to get there. The other time was a family cruise we took out of Miami.

I sighed. Overall, not all that adventuresome.

I looked at my phone, surprised to see it was nearly eleven-thirty and the day was almost over. That's what I get for zoning out. Martini was long gone, probably curled up on my bed already. Something Brock said kept repeating in my mind. Sometimes, it’s about taking a leap of faith.

I unlocked the screen, and before I could change my mind, pulled up a new text and typed Would you like to go on a date with me?

To my surprise, three dots danced along the bottom of my screen.

I thought you’d never ask.

The smile never left my face as I brushed my teeth and got into bed, like every other night.

Little did I know every night would include Brock Daniels for the rest of my life. All because of a leap of faith.