Page 17 of Every Hidden Truth

“I’ve never really done this,” I whispered, gaze locked on our twined hands.

“Held hands?”

I scoffed. “That too, but I meant this.” I gestured between us with my free hand. “The cutesy stuff.”

“Cutesy stuff?” he repeated, humor lacing his tone.

“Yes, Ben, cutesy stuff. I’m not good at this.”

“You’re doing just fine,” he said, and I blushed hotly. “I kind of like the cutesy stuff.”

And oh my God, could he be more adorable?

“I figured,” I said with a squeeze to his hand.

“You don’t mind?”

Shaking my head, I relaxed into my seat, unable to hide my goofy grin. “Nah, I can work with it.”

“Cool.”

We stared at each other for a never ending moment as his thumb rubbed circles over the back of my hand. The restaurant faded away, and we were the only two people in the universe. My heart galloped in my chest, and my stomach twisted delightfully.

I was already a goner, wasn’t I?

There was no stopping this. Ben was a flood, a tsunami, rushing in and devastating me in the most exquisite of ways. There was something about him that called to me, that resonated deep in my gut with terrifying familiarity.

We couldn’t be more different, yet we shared matching scars. We were two scared, broken little boys searching for somethingto hold on to, and somehow, we’d found each other. And maybe, just maybe, his jagged edges would fit perfectly with mine.

The moment shattered as the waitress appeared with a full tray of steaming food. Our hands parted, and I instantly missed the warmth.

“Enjoy,” she said as she placed the last plate—my sausage links—onto the table.

I grimaced at Ben’s plate of glucose. Noticing the expression, Ben stabbed a bite of his chocolate pancakes, dipped it in whipped cream, then offered me his fork. “You wanna bite?”

“No.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing the saccharine excess toward my lips. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

Accepting the bite with a growl, I chewed the sugar bomb and shuddered. Sure, I had a proclivity for blue moon shakes, but this was sickeningly sweet.

“It’s way too early to be eating cavities for breakfast.” I took a drink of my refilled water before shoving an entire sausage link in my mouth to replace the sweet with savory.

“But it’s so good!” He groaned obnoxiously around his bite, and I laughed as I dug into my hash browns swimming in thick, delicious gravy.

“Oh my God, I don’t know how you can eat that.”

As he swallowed, he flipped me the bird. “I’m a growing boy; sue me. And I really like pancakes.”

“Yeah, so do I, but that’s on a completely different level.”

“I guess I have a weakness for some things.” His foot pressed to mine under the table as he focused on his plate, his ears burning.

I had a feeling we weren’t talking about pancakes anymore. “Good to know you’re not infallible.”

We ate in silence for a few minutes, and I watched him eat just as methodically here as he had at the drive-in—a forkful of pancake, a bit of bacon then hash browns, and a swig of coffee.

After the waitress refilled our drinks, I nursed my water, having finished my food first, while Ben polished off his plate.

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