Page 118 of Give & Take

But the sudden movement reminds me of how hot I am. I let out a breath and wipe my forearm over my upper lip, forgetting about the mustache and almost peeling it off. I pat it back in place. Yes beggars can’t be choosers with free trench coats, but now I wish I’d been at least a little choosy.

Luckily I’m sufficiently distracted a momentlater as I watch Lana head to a table with an older couple. Her smile is radiant. The woman laughs at something she says. Then her husband says something and they all laugh, and for a moment the world goes still. It’s not the big, throaty laugh I got, and for that I feel this burst of petty victory.

But it’s still beautiful. Everything about her is beautiful. Seeing this side of her though, it makes me realize that I’m actually the luckiest man in the world, because what she’s doing now—it’s a performance. It’s not disingenuous; I truly think she’s enjoying herself.

But I get to see the real her. The one with the little frown line when she’s annoyed. The one with the real smile she tries to hide.

The one who looks at her most vulnerable and open when I have her naked next to me in bed, her expression soft, her eyes earnest and sweet.

Or closed, with her mouth open as she?—

Fuck, a boner in this outfit would be pretty much the worst thing ever in the history of bad things. I think of greasy fries and airport delays. Baseball. No, tennis, a sport I actually used to watch when I was a kid because my mom liked it. Her favorite player was this blond guy called Jude Kelly who she said she loved because he was sweet and goofy like me.

Okay crisis averted.

I feel calmed down enough to look back at Lana. She’s done with the older couple; she’s at the point of sale machine, tapping something into the screen. She tucks her pen behind her ear, and lifts her foot up to brush something off herankle.

I find myself mesmerized. The movements are unconsciously beautiful, and I wish I had some way of hitting rewind on the whole interaction, just so I can watch them over and over again.

Then again, that’s kind of a creepy thing to think.

Oh fuck me. Lana’s done and is heading my way.

I’m nervous, my heart pounding. Or maybe that’s just because the heat I feel is unbearable now. I keep my face down so she can only see the brim of my hat as she approaches.

Slowly, I notice. Almost cautiously.

“Hello,” she says, a friendly tone in her voice I’ve never heard before. There’s something else in there too. Some kind of…sympathy, maybe?

“My friend Chris tells me you needed a little extra time with the menu?”

I keep my voice down. “Yes, thank you.”

“Do you think you’re ready to order?”

Oh shit. I’ve been holding the menu in front of my face for a full ten minutes and I couldn’t tell you a single thing that’s on there. I try generic.

“I’ll have a…uh…burger.”

“Is that the special burger? Or the plain burger?”

Something’s definitely off. Her voice is gentle, like she’s talking to a child.

“Plain burger,” I say. “And French fries.”

Who says French fries? “Fries,” I clarify. “Plain fries.”

“You got it, honey.”

Honey? I snap my gaze up. Only the movement is a little too fast for my overheated brain, because I suddenly see spots. My stomach goes queasy.

“Sir are you…” She leans forward, steadying me with hands on my shoulders. “Sir…”

She frowns. Then she gasps, and rips off my mustache.

“Ow!” I say, only it comes out like a little squeak because I’m so out of it. The world’s starting to spin.

“Raph?” Lana asks, incredulous. “What the hell?”

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