“The right answer. Clearly the superior breakfast treat.”
“Is that a deal breaker?” I ask.
“You mean choosing between some soggy, cakey mess, and a delicious treat? No, not at all.”
“What about French toast, or crepes?”
“Well, they’re perfectly fine substitutes, but the waffle has everything. It’s crisp—”
I stop him. “There’s that word again.”
Nathan rolls his eyes and just keeps going. “It’s the perfect shape, with little syrup holders, and you can have so many flavors too.”
“Wow, a real Waffle Master.” I’m trying not to laugh.
“It’s a serious matter, Mr. De Backer.” He’s still laughing. “Okay, now you.”
I don’t think it’s actually my turn, but if he insists. “Do you want to write one day?”
“Maybe? I don’t care for fiction, writing it anyway. I like writing papers and things like that, the research. It’s fun.”
“Really?”
“I just like it. I always learn something new when I have to write a paper” is all he says about that. “What do you like to do? I mean besides draw.”
I turn on my side so I can lie down beside him. “That’s pretty much it.”
“You don’t have any other hobbies?”
“Not really.” I stop myself. “Dad and I didn’t do much together.” I think this might be the first time I’ve properly discussed my parents with Nathan. “Mom likes to cook, and I’d help her sometimes.”
I wait for him to ask about Mom and Dad, but he doesn’t. Nathan just keeps looking forward. “Your turn,” he says quietly.
“Do you have any secrets?”
He doesn’t answer right away, which scares me. Clearly this isn’t the easiest question, but it’s out there before I realize it. “That sounds ominous,” he finally says. “I can promise you I’m not an axe murderer or anything.” Nathan turns over on his side, using his arm as a pillow.
“I didn’t mean like that. Like nothing bad.”
“So what do you mean?”
“Just like … Is there a secret you have, that shouldn’t be a big deal? That you should be able to tell people, but you just can’t? Like, it isn’t even a bad thing, but it feels like people will think it is.”
I expect him to laugh in my face, call me some sort of freak. Or prod and poke at me until I tell him the truth. “Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.” His words surprise me. He speaks slowly, his brown eyes staring right into mine. “And it’s terrifying.”
“Sorry.” I try to laugh. “Didn’t mean to get so deep.”
“No, it’s cool. Just a little unexpected.” He takes in a heavy breath, his chest rising and falling. “I put my milk in my cereal first.”
It’s so random I can’t help but laugh at him. “What?”
“When I make cereal, I put the milk in first. It’s just always tasted better that way.”
“How can it taste different?”
He shrugs. “Just does.”
“Is that your big, deep dark secret?”