Page 24 of Every Broken Thing

When we arrived at the drive-in, I pulled into a spot and rolled down my window. “What do you want?” I pushed the Call button and waited for the speaker to crackle.

“I’m not picky. Whatever you’re having is fine.”

“All right.”

When a voice crackled through the speaker, I ordered two burgers, curly fries, and blue moon shakes, and after she gave me the total cost, I crawled out of the cab. Ben shadowed me, and I climbed into the back gingerly and pulled several cushions out of the tool box bolted to the truck bed. Motioning for the grinning boy to join me, he hopped in and made himself comfortable opposite me.

“You don’t like people eating in your truck?” He leaned back against the frame.

“Naw, it’s just more fun this way.” I mirrored his position. “Don’t you think?”

“Do you come here a lot?”

“Not a lot, but often enough. It’s quiet and, if you’re here late enough, it’s dark enough to see the stars.”

He tilted his head to the sky to admire them. “I think my aunt and uncle brought me here once when I was visiting as a kid.”

We sat in another easy silence until our food arrived via a girl on roller skates. She clicked the tray on the side of the truck and accepted the twenty I handed to her, thanking me when I told her to keep the change. Ben made to go for his wallet, and I waved away the gesture.

“Next time you pay,” I offered, passing him his burger, fries, and shake. His stomach gurgled in excitement as he accepted the food, but he eyed the shake suspiciously. “Just try it. It’s amazing.”

I took a sip of my shake and bit back a moan as the fresh, sweet flavor burst on my tongue. It tasted like springtime. Ben took a hesitant sip, smacking his lips dramatically.

“Not bad,” he said. I raised an eyebrow and popped a fry in my mouth. He sighed in defeat. “Okay, it’s the best damn flavor on the planet. Happy?”

“Glad to see you’ve joined me on the dark side,” I sniffed and dug into my burger, reveling in the delicious combination of greasy minced meat and fresh veggies.

The truck bed fell quiet as we ate, and I discovered silence would be the norm with Ben. He wasn’t overly shy, but he wasn’t a huge talker, either. He took his time with things. Speaking, eating, he never rushed. Even now, he ate methodically, a couple of fries dipped in ketchup, a bite of burger, and then a sip of shake. How did I not notice this last night at dinner?

Like his food, he savored his words, tasting each one before releasing it to the universe. I ran my mouth twenty-four seven, saying things I wished I could erase, but not Ben. He strolled through conversation, an odd weight to what he said. Analyzing my words exhausted me, and I couldn’t imagine the restraint he utilized, especially in conversation with me.

When I was left with nothing but my shake to occupy my mouth, Ben peered at me through his lashes, catching me staring. My cheeks warmed again, but I played it off as best as I could. “You eat weird.”

“Does that bother you?” He polished off the rest of his burger in one bite, his damp curls teasing his forehead as he cocked his head curiously.

I shook my head, capturing my straw and sucking another mouthful of cold deliciousness. He pondered me a moment before removing the lid from his own shake. He took a fry and dipped it into his ice cream before popping it in his mouth while I watched horrified.

“You realize that’s paramount to sacrilege, right?” My face twisted in disgust, but he slicked another fry in his shake slowly, a challenge shining in his eyes. I huffed dramatically and pointedly stared at the darkening sky as he massacred his shake and fries. What a barbarian!

“So,” he started as he swallowed his repulsive french-fry concoction, “since we’re testing the treacherous waters of friendship, you should tell me something about yourself.”

“Smartass,” I grumbled around my straw, but I played along. “My favorite color’s orange. You?”

He dropped his gaze to his shake, and the tips of his ears colored. “Gray.”

“Gray’s not a color.”

His eyes met mine, struggling to communicate something I couldn’t understand, but my stomach curled at the dark meaning in his stare. “You’d be surprised.”

It was my turn to drop my gaze.

“What’s your favorite movie?” he asked.

I contemplated a moment, chewing on my straw. “Do you want my honest answer or my tough guy answer?”

“Both,” he said without hesitation.

“Okay, so my straight, tough guy answer isGladiator.”

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