Page 48 of Hypnotized By Love

“Ah, yes, the old my-dog-ate-my-mom’s-tire excuse.”

“I didn’t say ...” He peered at me closely, in that way where it was like he was trying to uncover all of my secrets. “It wasn’t an excuse. It happened. I tried calling you, but you didn’t answer. I even tried calling you from my mom’s phone in case you’d blocked me again.”

“You’re not blocked, even though you probably should be,” I said, studying his expression. “You’re probably not lying, because I could easily find out whether or not you’re telling the truth.”

“Yep, it’d be dumb of me to lie about it.”

That was true, and he had brought me a handmade present. “You’re right. I sort of have trust issues,” I told him.

“Can I ask why?”

“I mean, there’s you, but I was thinking about it the other day. This one year in middle school I went to summer camp by myself because Sierra was in treatment, and I’d never been apart from her before. I was so scared and so lonely, and I met this girl—Monica Lake. We bonded and became besties. I told her secrets about myself, about my family, things I’d never shared with anyone else. And the next day I walked in on her telling our whole cabin everything I’d said while they all laughed. Totally violating my trust. I felt so completely betrayed. Like it broke something fundamental in me at an important developmental stage. There’s probably a part of me that always keeps a wall up with everyone for that reason.”

“Wow. I didn’t know that,” he said.

“I never even told Sierra about it.” I hadn’t wanted her to worry about me. “Enough about me. We were talking about your mom and her tire and how you brought me candy. It’s sweet how you take care of your mother. It’s one of your many fine qualities.”

His eyes twinkled. “I have fine qualities? You’re being very nice.”

“No, I’m saying something I don’t mean. That’s not nice; that’s called being polite.”

That scored me another laugh.

Romeo came back to see if he could grab us some food. Mason asked him to bring out two of the enchilada dinners and some water.

“I don’t need water,” I protested as Romeo left to put our order in.

“You do,” he said.

“Disagree to agree.”

He smiled and then said, “Maybe I’ll actually get to eat this time.”

“The ribs were very good,” I told him.

“So you ate the food I bought for you? Isn’t there some Greek myth about belonging to someone after you eat their food?”

“My dad ate most of the leftovers, so if you want him to stay in Hades with you six months out of the year, I guess you’d have a good case. Hey, maybe you could get Romeo to bring us a shot so we can make this a nightnotto remember.”

“I think I’m good. Like I said, I’m planning on staying sober tonight.”

“Spoilsport,” I muttered, but my mood instantly lifted when Romeo returned with some chips and salsa. “I don’t know what the secret to happiness is, but I do know that I’ve never been sad at Flavio’s.”

“I’d forgotten how important food is to you, and how much you love this place,” he said, watching me dip my chip in the freshly made salsa.

“Yep. Some women want to be wined and dined; I want to be tequila-ed and taco-ed.”

“Noted.”

We ate in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, and I became aware of the fact that the couple sitting next to me had just met, and the man was nervous and obviously working up his courage to ask the woman out.

I listened in, fascinated. She was giving him all the signals to move forward, both verbally and physically, by doing things like touching his arm.

Mason figured out what I was doing, and he cocked his head to the side to listen, too.

The woman checked her phone and said that she had to be going to meet up with her friends. She had just started to stand up when the man finally blurted out, “Before you leave ... do you want to go eat a movie sometime?”

She quickly replied, “Sure. I always watch what I eat.”

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