Before Ben could even formulate an answer, Caleb, his small face beaming with newfound purpose, pipes up. "Why…yes, he does!"
Caleb throws his arm around Ben's shoulder–a proud protector–before widening his understanding eyes at me.
I give a little shrug and return the smile. A simple nonverbal way of saying,maybe,to his unasked question regarding my interest in Ben.
Barrett startles all of us by clapping his hands together. "Then lunch is on me. We can celebrate Ben joining our team, that is, if he takes the position, and we can finalize Grayson's friendship-plant over some good food at Kate's."
I nod, a faint smile lifting my lips. Lunch with everyone. It was a simple offer, yet it feels like a lifeline.
The nameless ache in my chest seems to soften just a fraction.
Chapter Five
__________
Ben
Is this really happening? I mean…did I hit my head and wake up in some alternate reality where some sweet, cute guy showed interest in me? What was he thinking? Does he regret it?
Caleb's arm is loosely draped over my shoulder as if we've been friends forever. His arm feels like an anchor, holding me in place. I have this weird connection with him, like we could eventually be friends and not just coworkers. It helps that we're the same size and not huge like the other two guys currently staring at us.
In fact, Jason's eyes haven't left me since I got off his lap. It's hard to look at him, so I keep my eyes focused on the petals around my sneakers.
He didn't feel obligated to join us for lunch, did he? A bystander's duty. Or is there something else guiding his actions? The absurdity of the situation, me, a blubbering mess in the arms of a man I met mere minutes ago, is almost comical if it wasn't so raw and exposed.
The air between us hums with unspoken questions.
I can't bring myself to lift my head, to meet his gaze, afraid of what I might see reflected there.
Walking to the restaurant, my toe catches on uneven pavement and I stumble forward. I don't have time to catch myself before strong arms are holding on to me.
"Careful, little one," Jason's raspy voice tells me, and I feel his warm breath on my ear. A shiver runs down my spine and it has nothing to do with the chill in the air.
Little one. What does he mean by that?
"Th-thank you for saving me. Twice now," I say shyly, words coming out barely above a whisper.
Jason keeps his arm over my shoulder as we make our way inside. My cheek is pressed against the rough tweed of his jacket, and I can detect the faint scent of something clean, like how it smells outside after it rains. The scent grounds me. His stillness is a stark contrast to the chaos within me, and I cling to it.
He makes me feel…safe?
That thought is a dangerous one. Didn't my mom teach me about stranger danger? Safety. With a stranger. A stranger who is now, inexplicably, my entire world. I trace the line of his jaw with my eyes, the subtle tension there, the barely perceptible shift as he breathes.
He's not pulling away.
He could. A polite excuse, a gentle disentanglement, and he could melt back into the anonymous crowd of customers, leaving me alone with the wreckage of my thoughts.
But he hasn't.
My secret of being a little presses against my ribs, a physical weight, a constant reminder of the inevitable fallout.
This connection with Jason feels like a cruel joke. It's a whisper of what could be, a glimpse into a forbidden garden, and I know, with a certainty, that I'll be the one to cause it to whither.
Yet, I don't move. Only staying pressed into him in the booth, soaking up his warmth.
"Good afternoon, guys. I'm Matthew, and I'll be serving you today." I lift my head up at the cheerful voice, and that's when I regret it. His eyes are fixated on Jason like he wants to havehimfor lunch.
I lift my shoulder and try to scoot over to give him some space. I don't want Matthew to think we're together, or get in the way of Jason meeting someone who isn't coming in with a lot of baggage.
