He’ll come, I tell myself, gazing down at the napkin in front of me. It’s all wrinkled from me fidgeting with it, so I flatten it, trying to undo what my nervousness did.
Someone appearing on the other side of the table takes my focus away. I don’t even have to finish my gaze up the black button-down shirt to know it’s him.
Lex…
He came.
He must have come in right after the couple, and the surprise of seeing him leaves me speechless. He looks dashing in a dark suit, with his hair a little wet.
“Sorry, I took a little longer than I meant to. I had to take a quick shower and change.”
Looking like he does, I wouldn’t have minded if he’d taken an entire hour.
“May I sit?” he asks, grabbing the chair.
“Yes, of course.”
He removes his jacket, hangs it on the backrest, and sits in front of me. I struggle to think past the relief of his presence, so I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think this through very well, and now that he’s joined me, I’m unsure how to proceed.
It seems that he does, though. “Before we start, there are things I need to say.” His graveness makes my guts twist with anguish. “I’m not the best at anticipating or guessing people’s feelings. Despite trying, it’s one of these social things I can’t do. I’ve been thinking a lot lately and see how horrible this must have been for you.”
For the next part, he looks down at his glass as if holding my gaze is too much. “You know I’m not good with people, but I don’t think you know to what extent. I said some nasty things after the Halloween party, and I can’t apologize enough for them. I genuinely thought you were better off resenting me, and I didn’t think of how much I was hurting you. But now, I realize it was purely selfish. I preferred to know you hated me because I made you, rather than because of the way I am.”
I listen quietly, aware of how hard this must be for him. This is exactly what we need—him opening up and letting me into his complex mind. And he’s doing it of his own will, which means so much.
“More than ever, I know I don’t deserve you. I’m a fucking moron when it comes to those things, and I can’t help but worry I’ll end up doing it again. This,us, isn’t the best thing for you. I still think I’ll mess it up, one way or another.”
He pauses, and I wait, preparing myself for the worst. His hands come together in a practiced motion to crack a knuckle—his middle finger first. Then another. And another. He keeps going, like it’s some kind of ritual, like it’s helping him work through something I can’t see.
Maybe he came here to let me down gently, after all, rather than to stand me up and leave me with some residue of hope. But when he looks up again, when his gaze meets mine, I know that’s not it. There’s doubt in his eyes, yes. But there’s also a promise. A determination.
“You’re the smartest person I know,” he continues, “so I have to believe you’re right. I have to trust you because I can’t trust myself or my judgment. But I promise, Andrea, I’ll do everything I can to be worthy of you. I don’t know how to date, be romantic, or be a… boyfriend.” He hesitates on the word, and I can’t even blame him for it. It definitely doesn’t suit him. It’s too puerile and ordinary in comparison to everything he is. “I’ve never done any of this, but I’m willing to learn. I’m willing to become what you need and deserve because I want you like I’ve never wanted anything in my entire life.”
I sniff ungraciously and blink a few times to chase away the tears gathering in my eyes. He’s willing to change for me, to become a better person. It means so much, but it isn’t what I actually need. “I don’t want you to be any different,” I counter.
“But I do. I want this to work, and I don’t want you to change your mind down the line,” he explains, his gray eyes intently fixed on mine. “But I need you to be indulgent with me. I will make mistakes, and it’ll take time, but I will get there, eventually. Will you be patient with me, Andrea?”
I nod without even needing to think about it. Of course, I’ll be patient. I still don’t think I want him to change in any way, but he needs that promise right now.
“Good,” he says with a nod, his shoulders sinking with a relieved sigh.
When he rolls up his sleeve to get more comfortable, I can’t help but eye the muscular forearm that reveals itself.
“So, what should we talk about?” he asks, moving on to the other side.
I force myself to think about it despite the distraction of his meticulous rolling. I crave to know more about him and understand who he is, but I don’t want to push him if he isn’t ready yet. He has to do it at his own pace. Maybe we can start with the good things before moving on to the bad stuff.
“Tell me about your friendship with Kevin,” I suggest, curious to know more about it. His face lights up at the mention of his oldest friend, and the shadow of a smile bends his lush lips.
“We met in eighth grade,” he starts, mindlessly toying with the napkin before him. “I’d already skipped a few grades and was turning ten—still a child by any means—but my classmates were already teenagers. Needless to say, I wasn’t very popular. But I had my comic books, so I didn’t mind. They kept me entertained during breaks and lunch. That’s how Kev first approached me. He came to me during a free period and asked if he could sit with me and read.”
Lex pauses and shakes his head, nostalgic. “Kev has always been selfless and kind. Kelex was his idea, you know. I wanted to start a video game company, but he suggested we build something more meaningful. To this day, I’m still convinced he only wanted to help out a lonely kid—especially since he was neverthatinto comic books.”
I’ve always thought Kevin was a great guy, and hearing all this confirms it. Next time I see him in the Kelex hallway, I’ll hug him and thank him for his services.
“That became our thing,” Lex continues. “We didn’t even talk sometimes. He’d just sit with me and read one of my comics. It went on for a few weeks before things evolved into more.”
When the waitress appears by our side, Lex stops talking, and we watch as she sets down a wooden cutting board full of empanadas between us. “Here you go, guys,” she says with a smile. “The empanadas have numbers embossed on them, and you’ll find the list of fillings right here,” she explains, pointing at the leaflet menu in its holder.
