Vegan Virgin Valentine by Carolyn Mackler

But I fell asleep reading on the couch, so it’s not like I went to
bed
or anything.”
    “I was just going for a walk and I thought—”
    “You don’t have to make excuses,” James said, grinning. “I know why you’re here.”
    “What?”
    “You want another cup of Famous McCloskey Chamomint Tea. McCloskeys have come to expect this over the years. You give someone one cup and then, every day, they’re knocking at your door. But that’s why we only share it with people we like. So come on in … I’ll make you a cup.”
    “Are you sure?”
    James opened the door wider. I stepped into his apartment. He reached behind me and took off my coat. As he did, his hands lingered on my shoulders for an extra second.
    James hung my coat over the back of a chair. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Make yourself comfortable.”
    I took off my boots, lining them up neatly by the door. Then I padded into his living room, which was filled with more books than Seymour Library. I sat on the couch and folded my legs under me. There was an open copy of
The Poisonwood Bible
on the couch. Very interesting. When we were talking last night, I told him that that was my favorite Barbara Kingsolver novel. He said that although he owned a copy, he’d never read it. Even more interesting was that I drove over to Lift Bridge this morning and bought
High Fidelity
because James had told me the previous night that it was his favorite Nick Hornby novel.
    James carried two mugs into the living room. I couldn’t help but notice how his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. I glanced at the hole in his jeans. I had this sudden urge to touch it. I sat on my hands.
    James placed one mug on the table next to me, pushed
The Poisonwood Bible
off to the side, and joined me on the couch. He leaned over and set his cup on the floor at his feet.
    “Do you like it?” I asked, gesturing to the book.
    “It’s hard to get into, but I have a feeling it’s going to be worth it.”
    “It’s definitely worth it,” I said.
    The hole in James’s jeans was on the far side of me, out of my direct line of vision, so I freed one hand and reached for my tea.
    “It’s really hot,” James said. “You might want to give it a little more time.”
    I put down the mug and set my hand on my lap. We were both staring straight ahead, like passengers on an airplane. It felt awkward, which is weird because James and I are usually so comfortable around each other. But then again, we’ve never been alone in an apartment in the middle of the night with one of us wearing jeans with a hole in the thigh.
    “You know,” James finally said, “I put on one of those tag-cut-out shirts today and it itched me so much I had to take it off. I thought of you.”
    “That’s so funny,” I said, “because I opened a new box of soymilk this morning, and it splashed out of my cereal bowl, and I thought of
you
!”
    James laughed. “It’s nice that we think of each other in such special moments.”
    “I thought of you other times, too.” As soon as I said that, my heart skipped a beat, realizing how it sounded.
    James leaned over and picked up his mug, taking a careful sip. When he set it back down, I could swear he shifted his body a tiny bit closer to me.
    “Is it snowing yet?” he asked.
    I shook my head.
    “We’re supposed to get twelve to fourteen inches tonight.”
    “Really?” I asked. “That many?”
    James nodded.
    Silence.
    My feet were falling asleep, so I stretched out my legs. As I did, I shifted my body a tiny bit closer to him.
    “I like your apartment,” I said.
    “Thanks. You’ve been here before, right?”
    I nodded. “Last spring, when I came with…” I paused. “When I came to get my paycheck.”
    “Oh, that’s right. The computer at Common Grounds was broken.”
    “Right.”
    More silence.
    We were talking in these stilted sentences, but it felt like there was meaning behind every inflection. I was hyperaware of James’s legs, his arms,