“Getting that look on your face like you’re overthinking something.”
I took a sip of my coffee to buy myself time. “Just thinking about work stuff.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he let it drop. Our food arrived a few minutes later, delivered by a different waiter this time, and Kent’s shoulders relaxed completely.
The pancakes were exactly as good as I remembered. Kent made appreciative sounds after his first bite, and I felt ridiculously pleased that I’d brought him here.
“Okay, you were right,” he admitted. “These are really good.”
“Told you.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a while, and I found myself watching him. The way he cut his pancakes into precise squares before eating them. The little furrow that appeared between his brows when he was concentrating. The way his foot kept finding mine under the table, like he needed that point of contact even in public.
I was so gone for him it wasn’t even funny.
“What?” Kent asked, catching me staring.
“Nothing. Just curious if you and Brittany ever did stuff like this together.”
Kent’s expression shifted, something guarded sliding into place. He set his fork down carefully, like he was buying himself time to think.
“Not really,” he said finally. “I mean, we went out to eat, but it wasn’t like this.”
“What do you mean?”
He was quiet for a moment, his fingers tracing patterns in the condensation on his water glass. “With Brittany, everything had to be perfect. The right restaurant, the right time, the right clothes. She’d get upset if I suggested somewhere that wasn’t Instagram-worthy.” He looked up at me, and there was something vulnerable in his eyes. “This is better. Just... normal.Easy.”
The words settled over me, warm and satisfying. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He picked his fork back up, stabbing at a piece of pancake. “I didn’t realize how exhausting it was, trying to be the person she wanted me to be. Always performing, you know?”
I did know. I’d spent years performing myself, hiding who I was from people who wouldn’t accept it. But with Kent, I didn’t have to do that anymore. I could just be myself.
“You don’t have to perform with me,” I said quietly. “I like you just the way you are.” Then I added, “When you’re not being a dick of course.”
He smiled, his eyes meeting mine across the table, and something passed between us. Understanding, maybe. Or recognition. “I know. That’s what makes this so scary.”
“Scary how?”
“Because I’ve never felt like this before.” The admission seemed to cost him something. “With anyone. And I don’t know what to do with that.”
My heart was hammering in my chest. This felt like the edge of something important, like we were standing on the precipice of a conversation that would change everything.
“Kent—”
“Sorry to interrupt.” Ryan was back, his smile still firmly in place as he looked at me. “Just wanted to check if you needed anything else. More coffee? Maybe my number?”
The question hung in the air, bold and unmistakable. I felt my face heat up, acutely aware of Kent’s eyes on me.
“We’re good,” I said quickly. “Just the check, please.”
Ryan’s smile faltered slightly, but he recovered. “Sure thing. I’ll be right back with that.”
As soon as he walked away, I looked at Kent. His expression was carefully neutral, but I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his hands had clenched into fists on the table.
“God… it really is adorable when you get all worked up about me,” I grinned.
Kent just glared, stabbing his pancakes. “Shut up.”
