Dawson and Layla had just left Tilted and were now walking the brick path that followed the river through the center of town. The sky was dark, but Red View was alive with its typical weekend nightlife. Their path was lighted by warmly-lit stores and the popular choice of bare, rustic lightbulbs hanging over outdoor seating areas. Opposed to the families and the older crowd that hung out during the day and afternoon, the younger crowd came out at night. The sidewalks were filled with chatter and laughter from couples and groups of friends dressed warmly enough to enjoy the chilled evening.

"You're probably used to places a lot fancier than Tilted, huh?" Dawson couldn't help his voice from holding the hint of an apology. He just wanted her to like Red View, wanted every little thing to help convince her to stay. He thought he'd been doing an okay job at leading her down that road, but tonight had his confidence waning.

Something at dinner had just seemed off. Did he imagine the way she smiled a little less than usual at his jokes? Was he overthinking the forlorn look she wore while she watched the river from behind the large restaurant windows?

"Well, yeah, I guess," Layla answered, pulling her leather jacket closed as a breeze rolled past. "If I go out to eat with clients, or Colin, or my parents, usually the venue is some sort of glitzy penthouse restaurant with ridiculously small food portions and outrageous prices." Her eyes met his, cool and darker in the moonlight. "But just because I'm used to something doesn't mean it's what I want."

His smile came easily. Every time he was worried she wouldn't like it here, that it might not be up to her standards, she reminded him that he still hadn't pinned exactly what those were. "You're really not a fan of New York City at all, are you?"

"Well, I wouldn't say that. Spend a night drinking some fancy wine you can't pronounce and looking out over the city, and it's hard to feel anything but amazement."

"What about claustrophobic?" He was relieved when she laughed at the joke. "I mean, just thinking about all those people in one place... So many in every skyscraper. So many lives being lived in every burrow."

"Honestly, I think that's what I like about it—You never know what you're looking out on. Someone getting the best news of their life, someone else getting fired in the next building over. Two people breaking up, meanwhile the couple walking by their apartment are falling in love. There's something magical about having that much life in one place."

"You make it sound a lot better than I remember it being."

She laughed, moving closer to avoid tripping on the roots of a tree that had invaded the sidewalk. "Well, it's not all so romantic. There's the angry commuters, the litter, the chihuahua-sized rats. But I've traveled enough to know that everywhere has its pros and cons."

"Okay. So give me the Red View rundown. Cons first."

Her gaze traveled skyward, teeth gnawing her bottom lip in thought. "Well, I'll get the obvious one out of the way. No gym."

He shook his head. "No fair. That's in the middle of potential rectification. Next."

The laugh that escaped her was light and lively enough to make his heart dance. "Alright, fine. Next... Cell service here is pretty bad."

"Well sure, to a city girl, no doubt."

"Uh-uh." She waved a finger at him. "Even Annie thinks so, and she's from Connecticut suburbia."

He smirked, nodding to concede. "Jack complains about it all the time too. Says it's a bitch to do any business away from the landline--in more polite terms, obviously." His brother probably hadn't described anything that crudely in his life. "Alright, wrack your brain for a third. Then you can start the long list of pros."

"I don't have to wrack my brain, because it's an easy one." She gestured across the street to a large parking lot, mostly hidden behind the narrow brownstone buildings lining the sidewalks. "You only have one supermarket, and it's missing a few things."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I thought you didn't cook."

"Since I've never liked the idea of surviving off of TV dinners, I've learned to manage a few dishes over the years. Samson's doesn't have kale, tofu, or quinoa."

"Quinoa?" he repeated it like it was contagious. "Is that really the name of something that's edible?"

She grinned. "Well, if I'm the one making it, then the answer might be no."

"Lucky for you, you're talking to a man who was once Samson's employee of the month. Sam's still managing the place, and I suspect he will be until the end of time itself. If anybody wants something in stock, all they've gotta do is ask. You'll be eating... keen-wah again by next week. God knows why you'd want to."

On the end of a laugh, she asked, "You worked there?"

"Uh-huh. My first job at sixteen. Wanted to make some extra cash over the summer—Jack got a job at the barber shop sweeping up hair and keeping the place clean. We were saving up to get Nationals tickets—three, for us and Dad—and enough to stay overnight in DC. Jack quit once we made enough, but I stayed on for a bit at the store. Samson needed the extra help, and it's hard not to have a soft spot for the guy. Plus, I liked the cash, and I liked having my own gig—not joined at the hip with Jack, or working under my parents for once."

"I guess I never really did that," Layla admitted. "My first job was as a receptionist for our gym in New York. Then eventually I went into the nutrition department, and finally finished my training and became a personal trainer."

"It might take some getting used to, if you start working on your own. I'd be lying if I said it'll all be enjoyable—I mean, I've seen how hard Jack works on the business side of things. But I'd also be lying if I said I didn't think it was worth it."

She paused next to one of the iron street lamps, smiling at him. Quiet jazz music filtered out of the nearby café, mixing with the sounds of chatter and clinking silverware. "I still owe you my list of pros."

"Top three," he said as she leaned against the post. She looked damn good, he thought. Edgy leather over something as simple as a white shirt and black pants that hugged her body just right. With the heels she had on, they were eye-to-eye, a fact that only made him want to take advantage of how easy it would be to kiss her.

"I'll start with the orchard. Do you remember when we were fighting on the stairs in your house, and I said I liked the orchard just fine?"

He smiled, recalling how he'd shamelessly followed her out of the dining room. "I'm not sure if I knew we were fighting, but yeah, I remember."

"I was lying. McAden Orchard is, without a doubt, my favorite place that I've been. Even a few nights in, I already knew that."

"I'm doing my best not to gloat," Dawson joked, but couldn't help grinning. The more she liked the orchard, the more likely it was that she'd stay.

"Second pro," she continued with a giggle, "my friends. Honestly, I never thought I'd have any, let alone ones like these. I've never been as happy as I've been since I met Kenzie and Marshall, and now Annie. Then there's Gabriela—God, I was so nervous about making a good impression on her. I know how much Kenzie loves her."

With a sigh, her look went wistful. "But she just... accepted me, you know? There wasn't any pressure, she didn't grill me, or look at me like I'm some kind of outsider. No one has. And I didn't really even realize that all my life, I've felt like one. Not until I met people who made it impossible for me to feel that way anymore."

"You shouldn't have to feel that way, Layla. I hate thinking of you going back to that. You moving here... it isn't just about us. It's about you."

Her gaze fell, expression losing its shine. Was she thinking about going back? Maybe she didn't know how to break it to him. That's why she'd been distracted at dinner.

"Something's been bothering you tonight." He couldn't stop himself from stating the obvious, even though it was his experience that people usually tended to get upset when you pointed out the emotions they were trying to hide. "I noticed it earlier, but I boiled it down to me being paranoid."

Her head tilted, brows furrowing. "Paranoid?"

He shrugged—he hadn't meant to back himself into that corner of admission. "About you... leaving. I keep thinking maybe you'll change your mind and leave before the wedding. Or that when the time comes and you make your decision, it won't be the one I'm hoping for."

"That's actually along the lines of what's been bothering me."

"Oh?" His heart sank despite his best attempts to stop it.

"I haven't decided anything yet. It's just something Marshall said earlier, when I told everyone about us."

He felt the unmistakable twinge of anger bloom inside of him. If Marshall managed to screw this up for him after only a few minutes of finding out... How immoral was it for a guy to fist fight his brother-in-law? "What'd he say?"

"He made a point about... if I stay, and we end up..."

He could tell she was avoiding the words breaking up, probably because with their current situation, their wasn't a specified relationship to break up. "Not together," he finished for her.

"Yes. That. And it just has me all frazzled because, well..." She huffed out a breath, finally looked him straight in the eyes. "Of all the pros of Red View, the most important one is you."

God. If any words had ever made him feel so... whole, he couldn't remember them.

She ran a hand through her hair. "And I know that's probably a big... I don't know, pressure, on you. And I don't mean for it to be. But—"

"Hey." He cut her off, stepping forward to take her face in his hands. As their eyes met, he murmured, "Not a pressure. An honor, Layla."

She softened as he placed a gentle kiss on her lips, keeping it chaste for the sake of the café patrons and pedestrians.

As they parted, he continued, "If you want to know the embarrassing, juvenile truth, I hadn't thought about what would happen. Didn't even consider the possibility, actually."

The admission earned him a small smile, but she said nothing, waiting for him to go on.

"I imagine we'd be adults about it. We'd stay friends. Or amusingly passive-aggressive exes at worst."

That one got him a laugh that melted some of his anxiety away. "I told him we'd be mature about it. But later I got thinking about all the bickering that we started with, and realized that might not've been such a realistic answer."

They both grinned as he pulled her to his side, the two of them falling back into step. "As much fun as it is picking on you, I do think we'd be mature. If you're worried about me turning into a jerk, or it being awkward because you're friends with Kenzie, don't be."

"It's not that, really." She shrugged the shoulder that his arm was resting on. "I know you're a good person, and you love Kenzie. Even if we somehow ended up hating each other, you wouldn't want things to be weird for her."

Well, she was half-right. He wouldn't want things to be weird for Layla, either. This whole conversation had him fighting not to squirm with discomfort. It felt like when Jack had convinced him to write his will. He wasn't even thirty, for Christ's sake. What the hell did he need a will for?

And what the hell did he and Layla need to talk about breaking up for? Unlike death, it wasn't inevitable.

And that should have scared him, shouldn't it? That he was thinking about permanence this soon? Thinking it was more unlikely than likely that they'd split up?

Then again, he'd never been a commitment-phobe. It was the pain he was scared of. The fear that he'd get hurt again. And this... this had the potential to sting. If Layla ended up leaving, he was beginning to think it'd damn near kill him.

He was stupid to let his hopes get this high, and yet here he was, and he didn't care. To believe that she might stay felt too good to care.

"Do you think we will?" he finally spoke, needing even a slight indication that she was on the same page—or at the very least, the same chapter. "End up hating each other, I mean."

She turned to him, lips curved into a sweet smile as she shook her head. "No."

"Good. Me neither." And if he had anything to say about it, they'd end up doing a hell of a lot better than just not hating each other. "Come on. I'll show you another pro."

He led her farther into town, where the buildings of Red View transformed from cozy rowhouses into stout buildings that sat farther apart from one another. Next to the old diner where he used to sip milkshakes in the same crowded booth with his family every Sunday, there was a plain brick building painted all black. From the single window next to the door, flashes of colorful light shone out, painting the night with neon hues.

"I really hope this isn't a strip club."

He laughed, guiding her to the door. "A strip club in Red View. That'll be the day."

"Oh!" Layla's face lit up with wonder, illuminated by the lights of various machines as they walked inside the arcade, the door falling shut behind them. The room was filled with the sounds of Pac-Man, Space Invaders, and the roar of engines from the nearby motocross games. Two geeky-looking teenage boys looked up from behind the fake Buck Hunter guns they held, eyeing the adults like they'd just walked in from outer space.

"If this is a strip club, I don't think they should be in here," Dawson muttered to Layla. She smacked his arm with a grin, pulling him towards the unoccupied motor bikes.

"I've never been to one of these!" she said, confirming his suspicions. What had been an integral part of his childhood—bumming around with his siblings or friends in the arcade that had been crowded and lively back then—was something she'd never experienced.

They spent the night doing just that. Playing games and goofing off like teenagers, cheering each other on and howling with laughter at ridiculous losses. When she gave him a smacking kiss after she finally managed to not come in last place in motocross, he realized he loved her.

It was so fast, so out of nowhere that it nearly knocked the wind out of him. He loved her.

Of course he did. That's why he wanted the permanence. He didn't want to think about breaking up or moving on, or acting like adults over things he never wanted to happen. He loved her, and he wanted her to stay so that maybe someday, she'd love him back.

And if he told her that now, in the glow of the arcade games, or even tomorrow in the chilly early-morning, it'd scare her away so fast he wouldn't even get a chance to explain himself.

She'd think he was insane—and hell, maybe he was—for falling in love with her in a matter of weeks. But God, she hadn't given him any other choice.

He'd keep it to himself, as close to his chest as he could, until the wedding. When it came time for her to make her decision, she'd know the truth. What she'd end up doing with it... he could only hope wouldn't break his heart.

Hey guys! I have a busy couple of weekends coming up, so I hope you don't mind if I update this story on Monday for the next few weeks! 🍎❤️