I’m not really surprised to see Jarek’s truck pull into my driveway in the evening. I’m sitting on the front porch, happy that it’s started to cool down at least a little, drinking an iced tea. The fact that I brought the pitcher and an extra glass out with me is proof of how unsurprised I am to see him.
I smile at him as he walks towards me, but I can tell there’s something wrong. He looks utterly dejected. “Bad day?” I ask softly when he sits on the bench next to me.
“I’ve had better,” his voice sounds tired.
I pour him a glass of tea and hand it to him. I want to curl up into his side and rest my head on his shoulder, but it feels like that would be an awkward amount of intimacy. I mean, yes, we spent last night together, and there’s a certain level of comfortableness that I feel
