Page 904 of One More Kiss

Tate

By the timeour food arrived, I’d calmed down, and I guess Daniel had noticed because he removed his hand from my forearm.

We’d both ordered a BLT with fries—at his insistence—and the conversation continued to flow. It was weird but not in a bad way. It was just that hot guys always made me nervous. Most were assholes and always had an agenda if they were talking about me. And although he could have an ulterior motive for bringing me here, I had a feeling he wasn’t like that.

Don’t get me wrong, my nerves were still flickering like a fourth of July sparkler but being with him felt easy. That was a new feeling for me. I never shared myself with anyone.

We talked about the day our loved ones had died and how it had hollowed us out. We both agreed that the five stages of grief were surprisingly accurate.

“Which stage do you think you’re on?”

I watched as he dragged a fry through the ranch dressing on my plate because he had already finished his. We had been hanging out for a short time, but I loved that he felt comfortable enough to do that. I was sure most people would see it as rude, but to me, it was a compliment.

I plucked the fry out of his hand just before he bit it and popped it into my mouth as I watched his jaw hang open, but he recovered quickly and grabbed another.

“Well, this stage I’m in is a bit of a mess. Some days I’m depressed, well lots of days really, so stage four. But when it fades, I don’t go on to stage five. I hop right back to stage two, and I’m angry. It’s stupid, I know, but I can’t seem to shake the anger.”

He brushed off his hands on his napkin and leaned back in the booth. “No, it’s not. I totally get that.” His knees touched mine as his body shifted, but neither of us moved. “I spend a solid eighty percent of my days in stage two. And you know what? I think it’s perfectly healthy. Because fuck crying. And fuck feeling sorry for yourself. And fuck bipolar. Because that’s why he did it.”

My heart fell through a trap door to my stomach at his transparency.

He picked up his Coke and clinked his glass to mine. “Cheers to being pissed. It means you’re not going down without a fight. And that’s a much better place to be.” Then he swallowed quickly. “Mm, speaking of being mad. You ever heard the song ‘Pain’ by Three Days Grace?”

I smiled, humming it.

“That’s the one. Perfect anger song. All about feeling it, not managing it. That’s key. I have a soundtrack for everything, I swear.”

There was something behind that sunburst in his eyes. I could see the pain behind his mask and the anger, but I didn’t push for more because I knew all too well that his words only held so much truth. Because anger was definitely an easier feeling than depression. It hurt less.

Daniel paid for our food, and although I wanted to argue, I couldn’t since I didn’t have any money even if I wanted to. So, I offered in hopes that he didn’t agree.

Daniel stopped at a light on our way to my apartment and looked toward me. “Okay, talk music to me. You seem like a girl with good taste.”

I grabbed my phone. “You got Bluetooth in this?”

He cocked a brow.

“Yeah. Dumb question. Hook me up.”

He quickly threw the car into park and connected my phone just as the light turned green.

I scrolled through my phone and found what I was looking for. “So, this is my current mood. Well, for the past like six months.” I pressed play on the song “Heaven’s Gate.”

“Oh, hell yes!” He laughed. “Fall Out Boy. That’s legit. And what about an all-time favorite?”

I bit my lip nervously before playing “Welcome to the Black Parade” by My Chemical Romance.

“No way!” He was grinning from ear to ear. “We’re practically the same person.”

It was my turn to laugh. “Shut up.” I rolled my eyes at him as if we really had that much in common.

“I’m serious! This song is a fucking anthem. So underappreciated by today’s kids.”

“True story.” I looked out the window and let the song play. We were nearing my place, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want it to end.

He pulled into Victoria’s spot and killed the engine.

“Thanks for the ride” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “And the food.”

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