Page 86 of How You See Me
“Oh yeah? From what clues?”
“For one, your apartment is a museum of vintage furniture, and you fell in love with the van at first sight.” He sips his water, leveling me with a playful smirk. “I kept waiting for you to kiss it.”
A snort pops out, making me almost spit out my last bite of food. “I wanted to, but you already thought I was weird. Didn’t need to give you any more proof.”
“I never thought you were weird.”
Dropping the fork, I fold my arms and lean on the table ready to challenge that statement. “What were all those looks you kept giving me?”
“What looks?”
I demonstrate a side-eye and a broody frown.
“Those are my concentration faces.”
“Sure they are.” I stab a carrot slice from my salad. “So, what were you concentrating on? Not losing your temper with me?”
“Not exactly.”
“What, then?”
“I was trying not to find you so damn attractive.”
My fork freezes halfway to my mouth. I lower it slowly, my appetite forgotten.
“Even on the day you picked me up? I was really annoying that day.”
“You were you, Josie. No filters. No holding back. I liked that more than I wanted to.”
Emotion crowds my chest, leaving little room to breathe.
“Even though I poke just to get a rise out of you . . .” She pauses like she’s unsure she should continue. “I’m fascinated by you and can’t help but wonder where your broody side comes from.”
Tension carves deep lines into his face. I recognize that withdrawal, the instinct to hide the parts of himself he thinks are unwanted.
“Maybe one day it won’t be my entire personality."
“You know how some people are more outward with their thoughts and emotions?” I point at myself. “Others keep them tucked close. Neither way is right or wrong. You deserve to be happy, Hayes. However you choose to show it.”
With a deep breath, he glances out the window and over the restaurant before coming back to me. “I lost that formula somewhere along the way. My version of happy has been MIA lately, along with the passion I once had for my job.”
“And that hurts?”
His shoulders relax, a visible relief that he doesn’t have to spell it out. “Like my heart has been ripped out of my chest. Being a Marine is all I’ve ever wanted. Without it, I don’t know who I am.”
“You’re still a Marine. The years and sacrifices still matter, even if you find another purpose.”
“I guess. I just don’t know which direction to go.”
“You will. I have faith in you.”
We get back to eating after that. The weight of his pain hangs in the air, both heavy and somehow comforting. He’s human and vulnerable, like the rest of us.
While he visits the restroom, I pay the bill and doodle a little Marine in a cowboy hat on the receipt.
“That’s against code, you know?” He smiles down at me, then carefully tucks the flimsy paper in his wallet.
“Of course, I do, but it was fun imagining those two sides of you colliding.”
