“Took a shower. Hung out with Mav and Dax for a bit.” He opens his bag and pulls out a book and pad of paper with a case full of pens and pencils and highlighters.
I can't help but stare. He moves so gracefully all of the time and his face showing in full, I see him in a whole new light. I wish I could see his face like this more often, the waves pushed back. He's beautiful.
“You want coffee or something to eat?” He asks, breaking me from the trance he has me in.
“I can go up,” I tell him.
“No.”
One word, but it speaks volumes. I nod.
“Can I get a black coffee with two pumps of caramel? And a chicken salad with bacon, no cheese and dairy-free ranch? Please.” He smirks at me before getting up.
“Coming right up, pretty boy.”
I feel myself blush, watching him the entire way. His cheesy-player smile as he talks to the girl at the counter. His charm, how he carries himself.
Everything about him is everything I’m not.
I think of the party that one night back in my freshman year. If it hadn’t happened, I would have been different. But trauma changes you as a person.
Max talks to the girl taking his order, she’s smiling and blushing. Max smiles too, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Not in the way he smiled when he sat at the table. She doesn’t notice though. The girl thinks he’s paying attention and that’s enough.
“Order for Max!” is called out and the girl looks sad for him to be taken away from her. He gives her a nod, grabs the food and comes back to the table.
“Careful. You might break that pen,” he says as he sits down. Looking down I see that I am in fact gripping the pen like it did me wrong. “What’s up? Something happen while I was over there?’
“No. No. Everything is fine.”
I hadn’t realized how much their talking affected me. I can’t let it bother me. Max is just a friend to me, if that, and as I am to him. I’m not his type.
Clayton, get it through your thick skull. He is straight.
But he kissed you.
It was a dare.
He leanedinto you.
“Fuck. They put cheese on your salad.”
“What? No. It’s okay. I can have a little,” I lie.
“What happens if you do?”
“I’ll get nauseous. Might throw up. Get a headache too sometimes,” I explain.
Max gets up, grabbing the salad from in front of me. “Be back.”
I sign, watching him walk back over to the girl. Her smile is wide and bright. This time I can hear every word that comes out of Max’s mouth.
“I said no cheese and dairy-free ranch. Maybe if you were doing your job instead of flirting with me, you’d have heard me loud and clear.” His tone is sharp as he drops the salad on the counter in front of the girl.
The girl mutters something resembling an apology, register opening and she hands him money. She runs to the kitchen, leaving him behind with an impatient tapping foot.
She comes back with a new salad, apologizing again, and Max just walks away.
“Lactose free salad for you,” he says, sitting.
