Page 19 of Inked Desires
I turn slightly, grab the two bags, and drop a ten-dollar bill on the counter.
“Keep the change.”
Ben nods and takes the money off the wood.
“You got any info on the new guy?” he asks.
People here love gossip. Typical of small towns. Anything new becomes interesting and helps escape their own dull lives.
“No more than you,” I dodge, leaving the restaurant.
The Diner is just a few steps away, which makes life easier, though it’s a disaster for my diet. I can’t even remember the last time I cooked for myself.
I lean against the doorframe. Andrew sits at the kitchen table, head buried in his hands, resting on his arms. He looks as lost as I feel. I understand what he’s going through better than he could imagine.
“You hungry?” I interrupt his thoughts.
He jumps, suddenly straightening up. Fear clouds his gaze. I lift the bags I’m holding to show I mean no harm.
“I brought something to eat.”
His eyes brighten little by little. Finally, he seems to see me. Nervous fingers push hair off his forehead.
“Not really,” he admits.
I put the bags on the table.
“Eat. It’ll help you see the world differently,” I say, going to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of Coke.
I pull out my lighter to pop the caps before returning to him. He drags one of the bags closer and digs inside.
“Don’t worry,” I joke, noticing his wary look.“I’m not gonna poison you with fries. I’d find a more creative way.”
He rolls his eyes and puts one fry to his lips.
“That’d still be a good way to go,” he replies with a half-smile.
“Worse ways to die,” I agree, starting on my own portion.
“What’s in the other bag?”
His willingness to talk surprises me, in a strange way.
“Donuts.”
“I told you I don’t like sweets,” he reminds me.
How could I forget? Even if that sentence echoed with way too many undertones in my head. Just for a moment, I imagined what it would be like to feel his lips on me. Just a moment, nothing more.
“They’re not for you — that’s my dinner.”
I have no intention of going back to the Diner today, especially if the blonde keeps playing with her straw to catch my attention.
“Very balanced,” he mocks with amusement.
“Fries aren’t any healthier,” I reply, shrugging before chewing another.
“True, but they’re too good. Plus, they don’t contradict any religion and are vegan.”
