Page 41 of Hannah.
Johan’s eyes widen in shock, processing my words. “Boring?” he repeats, indignation evident in his tone. “I thought my classes were great.”
I grin, enjoying the playful teasing. “Whoever told you that clearly needed to win your favor.”
Johan raises an eyebrow, a mock-serious look on his face. “You don’t think I’m a good teacher, then?”
“Oh, you’re a great teacher,” I reply with a smirk. “Just not very entertaining. Maybe you should consider adding some juggling or magic tricks to your lectures. Looking good can only last you so long…”
Johan leans closer to me, lowering his voice. “Maybe not everyone is equipped to keep up with such intellectual stimulation,” he retorts with a playful smile.
“Or maybe you’re just overestimating your charm,” I quip back, a mischievous glint in my eye. “A little humility might make you even more endearing, you know.”
“Guys, enough,” Astrid interposes, her tone filled with humor. “You’re behaving like teenagers, it’s ridiculous.”
Struck by how absurd we must look and the humor in Astrid’s observation, Johan and I lower our menus at the same time, looking at each other in embarrassed chagrin. Then, his mouth twitches up on one side, his eyes crinkling with amusement. My laughter bubbles up, and before I know it, he and I are laughing together, and it feels like the rest of the world fades away. He’s so damned close that I want to touch him so badly. To my surprise, and as if he could hear my most intimate thoughts, I feel his leg extend under the table to touch mine. A jolt of electricity shoots through me, and I glance at him, wide-eyed.
Johan meets my eyes with a corner smile, a secretive and intimate expression meant only for me. He continues his conversation with Astrid and Conrad, his voice steady and composed, as if nothing unusual is happening. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks, my body warming at the secret contact. I flush deeply, trying to steady my breathing and focus on the drink in front of me, but it’s no use. All I can think about is his leg against mine, the silent, thrilling message it carries.
Our food finally comes, but his leg keeps touching mine—a gentle reminder of our secret connection.
Once we are at mid-meal, we watch as a jazz band begins to set up, which explains why the tavern is already so full. We’ve come on a live music night, unbeknownst to us. The jazz band starts their set, and the bright, brassy music has the entire restaurant buzzing with energy. The saxophonist's lively tunes fill the air, creating a contagious rhythm that makes everyone clap along. The atmosphere is electric, and I can’t help but get caught up in the infectious vibe.
Johan and I share a moment, a glance that’s like a silent acknowledgment of what we’re both feeling and the unexpected happiness the night has brought. For a moment, it’s just Johan and me, attuned to the music and each other.
However, amidst it all, Conrad keeps trying to engage me in conversation. He’s animated, sharing stories and trying to hold my attention, but my focus keeps drifting back to Johan. There’s an unspoken connection, an understanding as if we’re sharing a secret—which, I guess, we are…many secrets, in fact.
Like the fact that I want him beyond logic and sense or that he all but admitted that he left Astrid for me back at the party. Or that we once had lunched beside a burbling stream, discussing a family mystery, before spending two days at an equestrian show.
God, he and I have so much history in our short time, all so steeped with meaning and…longing.
Eventually, the evening ends, and as we leave Parker’s Tavern, our group naturally divides; Astrid and Johan head one way, their figures blending into the night, while Conrad and I venture in the opposite direction toward my dorm. A subtle glance back reveals Johan’s silhouette disappearing into the distance, and an unwelcome pang of longing tightens in my chest.
Conrad walks beside me, refusing to let me walk home alone in the dark. We engage in light chatter about the evening, the jazz, and the delicious meal.
“I think Astrid really enjoyed herself tonight despite Johan being a drag,” Conrad muses, a hopeful tone coming into his voice as he asks, “Did you have a good time, too?”
I force a smile, trying to match his enthusiasm. “Oh, yeah, the jazz band was fantastic, and the food...exceptional.”
He grins, seemingly content with my response. Little does he know that my mind still echoes Johan’s laughter, our secret connection under the table, and the fleeting glances we shared during dinner. The undeniable bond between us lingers like a ghost, haunting my thoughts. Walking back home, the cool night air does little to quell the warmth that lingers from dinner. The forbidden allure of it all leaves a sweet taste on my lips.
Once we reach my building, Conrad leans in and gives me a slow kiss on each cheek.
“Good night, Hannah,” he says, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, before turning and walking away.
I get inside and up the stairs until I enter my dorm room, haunted by the echoes of a night that should have been just a group outing but turned into something more complex, more tangled.
Flopping down on my bed, I close my eyes, letting the memory of the night wash over me like a comforting wave. Johan’s handsome face and smile, the jazz melodies, and theshared glances all play on a loop in my mind. I can still feel the closeness we shared, how he looked at me, and how sitting across from him at the tavern felt like our secret little date, hidden in plain sight.
A tiny pang of guilt flits through my thoughts. After all, Conrad and Astrid were there, too, and it should have been a double date, as my friend suggested in the first place. Whenever I’m around her and Johan, I feel like I’m lying to her about our history and attraction to each other.
And then there’s the lie resting on my bedside table, the little bauble I took from her show, but that’s a worry for another time.
Still a little fuzzy from the beer and wine, I replay the moments over and over in my mind, dissecting the entire dinner. It’s as if the universe conspired to create a bubble around us, a bubble that held only Johan and me.
The guilt is fleeting, overshadowed by the intoxicating thrill of my crush, the world reduced to stolen glances and shared moments. It’s a guilty pleasure, one I’m not sure I should indulge in, but for now, I relish in the enthralling afterglow of an evening that feels like so much more than it should have been.
I might have had one too many stouts, the residual buzz making my face flush and my inhibitions much, much looser than normal, because I reach for my phone, the idea of texting Johan playing at the edges of my mind.
My fingers hover over the screen as I flirt with the idea. He must have felt it, too, the secret date within a double date. A smile tugs at my lips as I imagine his reaction, but then my rational side kicks in.It’s wrong, I scold myself. I shouldn't be indulging in these thoughts. I’m sure he’s still with Astrid.