Page 94 of Collided

Hope and I are quiet, knowing now we have no reason to hang out.

Obviously, that doesn’t sit well with me because I blurt out, “Do you wanna grab something for brunch?” Knowing damn well I’d feed her, it doesn't matter what her answer is.

She smiles. “Sure.”

At the diner, I order the food. The last time she did, it made her anxious as fuck. I don’t want to put her through that. So, I ask her to find us a booth.

This little thing has sort of become our routine. I used to eat alone at diners but now she accompanies me which I don’t mind. In fact, I enjoy her company.

When I sit across from her I see her reading a book with an illustrated cover of a couple. I know right away it’s a romance book, which she seems to love too much.

“Is that a romance book?” I tease her.

Hope abruptly shuts the book and hides it under the table. “Huh.”

“It is, then,” I observe how her cheeks redden like a rose.

Rose.That’s it. She reminds me of a rose. Especially how the color is the same as when she blushes.

She puts her book on the table and meets my gaze. “Okay, fine. It is.”

“What is it about?”

She adjusts her hair. “Oh, um, I haven’t finished it yet.”

“How far have you read?” I eye the bookmark which is a strip of paper taken out of a notebook and folded many times to make it thicker.

For a book nerd, she doesn’t own many book-nerd things or whatever they are called.

“A little.” She tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear as if she’s nervous.

Do I make her nervous? I better fucking not. I want her to be comfortable with me.

“What’s happening so far?”

A waitress interrupts us by putting down our milkshakes and assures us that our food will be there in five minutes.

Hope quickly reaches for the chocolate milkshake and sucks on the straw. “Nothing.”

Explicit images of her doing somethingveryinappropriate fill my mind. I have to look away.

This friendship won’t work once she knows what goes through my mind.

“So, you’re telling me you’re reading blank pages?”

Hope chokes on the drink. I’m seconds away from making sure she’s okay. After coughing a few times, she clears her throat. “You’d get bored if I start talking about it.”

She could talk about animals and nature for hours, and I wouldn’t get bored. I’d listen to every word like an addict clinging to every particle of his fix.

“I won’t,” I assure her.

“Well…” she starts talking about her book and doesn’t stop. I believe she’s reciting every word with how detailed she gets. She paints the picture so well I find myself getting invested in thestory, even though I have zero attachment toward Adrian and Eleanor. “. . .they go to a party, and she has fun.”

I realize I’m mesmerized by how sweet and dreamy her voice sounds.

Fuck. I’m in so much fucking trouble.

“When will you—”

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