Grabbing the chocolate syrup she sets it next to my plate.
“You don’t need to stop being honest with me. If you like something, say it. Don’t be afraid of anyone.” She advises.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“You certainly weren't afraid to speak your mind when you first met me. I admired that about you. I can see why Heath likes you.”
He loves me.
I almost blurt out, but realize it’s probably best if he tells her himself.
Grabbing the chocolate syrup, I pour it over my pancakes and take a small bite. They melt into my mouth and the sweet taste is heavenly. But they are not like my mother’s. She makes the best pancakes.
Just thinking about her swells my throat, making it hard to swallow the food.
The reminder of last night once again circles my head and my barriers grow weak at keeping my wandering thoughts locked.
“How are the pancakes? Do you not like them?” She asks. “I can get you something else.”
“No!” I shake my head. “No, they taste perfect.”
She frowns. “Then why do you look sad?”
“I… um…” she just said to be honest with her. What should I tell her? That I miss my mother and her pancakes. That I could have them right now if I was home but I’m not because she kicked me out.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” she adds, taking in my silence. “There are a lot of things that we can’t just share with someone we barely know, dear. Though I want to know you.”
“What do you want to know?”
She sighs. “There’s this one thing I want to know. I don’t know how to approach this subject without sounding intrusive.”
“It’s okay, you can say it.” I take a bite.
She takes a bite and chews painfully long before saying, “Do you often stay over here?”
“No, this is my first time.”
“But you hang out in his room?”
I nod.
She lets out a loud breath. “I’m just going to say it because I’m growing anxious.”
What she doesn’t know is, I’m growing anxious too.
“Are you kids having sex?”
My face pales.
Before I can answer, she continues. “Because if you are, you need to be safe. I can go with you to see a doctor and we can?—”
“We’re not having sex, Mrs Travon,” I blurt.
She pauses. “Really?”
“Yes.” My face is brick red. “We’ve only kissed.”
“Okay,” she says slowly as if she doesn’t believe me.
