Page 98 of Crystal Iris
“Thank you,” I say.
We drive mostly in silence. I know he’s holding back because I don’t want to rush things. I’m not sure myself how slowly I want things to go.
A beautiful waitress comes to take our order, and I can’t help but compare myself to her. I hate that I do that. I remind myself to add something to my summer goals list:stop comparing.
“Have you been in a serious relationship?” I ask him, not sure why I’m going there.
“Yes and no.”
“What does that mean?”
“I thought we were, and she didn’t.”
“When did this happen?”
“Almost two years ago. She didn’t even feel the need to hide it. I saw them one day at a bar. She acted like… I don’t know. She told meshe didn’t know we were exclusive. I didn’t think I had to clarify.”
“I’m sorry, Hoyt.”
“Don’t be. Everything happens for a reason.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I do.” He smiles at me.
I look away, not sure how to respond.
“So… what’s Akira doing this summer?” He changes the subject.
“She has plans—family stuff, and NASA.”
“NASA?”
“Yeah, she’s that smart. She’s participating in a seminar.”
“Broc asked me if she was coming with you.”
“I think they’ve kept in touch,” I say, looking out the glass windows.
“I would give anything to see Broc at NASA,” he tells me.
“Space cowboy,” I wink, and we both laugh at the thought.
We eat and talk about childhood memories, horses, and work.
I want to split the check, but he refuses. I’m not sure how to handle that; Aaron had been paying for me since we were teens, and I could barely afford anything back then.
“Next time,” I tell him, “I want to. Next time’s on me.”
“Will there be a next time?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow.
Twenty-Two
“The heart of man is very much like the sea; it has its storms, it has its tides, and in its depths, it has its pearls too.” – Vincent van Gogh
Iwake up feeling refreshed from an early bedtime. When we got back last night, I struggled with what to do. I could have stayed up; Hoyt and I could’ve hung out, but I knew what I’d be risking. So, I told him goodnight and walked to my room, making sure to lock the door. I needed a barrier. Not from him—it was myself I didn’t trust.
As I walk downstairs, I can already smell the food. What I find is the opposite of what I had in mind when I told Hoyt I wanted pancakes. I thought I was asking for something simple, an easy meal. Instead, in front of me are stacks of round cakes filling the counter, each with a different flavor. An array of fruits, creams, and jams surrounds every plate. I couldn’t even choose one if I tried.
