Page 19 of Unexpected

“Umm, you know what I do for a living?”

“Okay, fine. I didn’t know that one thing. I knew the rest, though.”

“How do you know that I like to read and run in my free time or how old I am?”

He shrugged. “Even if you don’t tell me things, you tell other people on our street things. And people like to talk about you.”

“What does that mean?” I questioned defensively. What kinds of things were people saying?

As if reading my mind, Luke said, “It’s nothing bad. People like you, so you come up in conversation sometimes.”

I nodded, hoping that he was telling the truth.

“So, since we already know the basics, tell me something about yourself that you don’t usually tell other people. Something that I can’t find on social media or wherever else. I don’t know. Be creative. Just something interesting about yourself.”

I’m not interesting, I wanted to say, but I didn’t. Instead, I contemplated and dug down deep to find a fact that maybe not necessarily everyone would know about me.

“I’m writing a book.” The words came out like vomit and before I could even think about what I was going to say. He wanted an interesting fact, but my life was boring. The wordcreativehad me thinking of my creative outlet, and apparently, it was the best I had.

“Very interesting, go on,” he urged me to tell him more, but I didn’t have any more to tell.

“That’s all. I’m writing a book. I haven’t gotten very far, and the writer’s block has been fierce lately, but I’ve started.”

He leaned forward, elbows propped up on the edge of the table, giving me another eyeful of his thick, veiny forearms. He grabbed his new, full beer glass and asked, “What’s it about?”

I shook my head, reaching for my own beer. “I’m not telling anyone that. Only you and my sister now know that it’s even happening, but I’m not telling what it’s about just yet.”

He gave me a fake pouty face, and I laughed. “Why not?”

“Because one of the authors I admire the most had some really good advice on the subject: if you tell what your story is about, people will be less interested once it’s down on paper and then less inclined to read it. If I want people to read my book, I need them to be interested.”

“Do you want me to read your book?”

The question was a genuine one, and I was taken off guard by the sincerity in his voice. I felt, for some reason, like my answer was important.

“I want to have as many readers as possible, so yes, I’d want you to read it if you felt so inclined.” He nodded, and I continued, “Your turn. Give me something interesting about you that not everyone would know.”

He paused for a long minute like he was thoroughly debating the same question he asked of me. “I used to fight.”

“Like MMA or… boxing?” I asked for clarification on his broad statement.

He laughed without humor and rubbed the back of his head. “I wish. But no. I was an angry kid, and I took my anger out on other people. It was mostly underground fighting throughout high school and some of college.”

I was surprised that he was so candid in his admission. Although my admitting that I was writing a book was as deeply personal to me, it seemed like that really was something most wouldn’t know about him.

Pain from those memories made themselves apparent on the lines and the few small scars on his face. His past was obvious in the slight bump in his nose where it had likely been broken and was clearly written on the scars along his knuckles. But knowing his past made it hard to miss.

Some scars are hard to see unless you know what to look for.

“So, you fought out of anger as a way to channel it? What made you so angry?”

He was deep in thought when I posed my question, and he waited for a moment before answering. “That’s a subject for another time,” he said as he tipped his beer up and finished it off.

Usually, I would push for more information, but the look on his face, combined with his already heavy confession, told me not to.

“I think I misjudged you,” I said instead. He quirked an eyebrow at me in surprise.

“Did you?” he asked as if he wasn’t surprised by my admission.

---