Page 37 of The Boy I Hate

He grinned as he came closer, as though he’d missed her during their short separation. He unzipped his coat, letting it drop down his shoulders before draping it across the back of his seat and sliding into thebooth.

“Anything sound good?” he asked, reaching out foramenu.

She cleared her throat, still slightly dazed as she nodded her head. “Well, it would be a shame not to trythesoup.”

Her voice was barely audible, but he smiled nonetheless. “You’re probablyright.”

The server came forward, and set two mugs on the table while eyeing Samantha warily. She didn’t say a word, but the way the girl watched her made Samantha nervous. As though she’d seen Samantha’s reaction to him entering the room. As though she knew everything Samantha was feeling without hersayingso.

“Are ya’ll ready to order?” she asked, filling their mugs with piping hot coffee. “Or do you want me to give you anotherminute?”

Tristan shrugged, lowering his menu to look at Samantha. “I’m ready ifyouare.”

She took a breath, turning toward the server before nodding her head. She could feel the walls of doubt closing in around her. Doubts about this trip, her relationship, hersanity.

“Can I have half a grilled cheese, and a cup of soup, please? Split pea,” she confirmed, then she rose from her seat without saying another word and excused herself to thebathroom.

Alone in a stall, she fished her phone from the bottom of her bag and called Steven. She needed to hear his voice, to hear him say he missed her, he loved her, anything that would ground her back to the life that seemed to be slipping through her fingers by the second. Steven’s phone rang a half dozen times, then finally rolled to voice mail, making herheartdrop.

“Hey babe,” she began, her throat constricting as she thought of words to say. “We’re in Chippewa Nebraska. It’s so cold I can see my breath.” She paused, resting her head on the toilet roll and feeling almost sick. She began to laugh, not hard, but in a way that could easily shift to crying given the opportunity. “I think it may rain before we stop; isn’t that crazy?” She pulled in a breath. “I already miss our sunshine. I miss you.” But as the words crossed her lips, they didn’t quite feel genuine. They didn’t quite feel hers. “Callme.”

She disconnected the call, lowering her head to set her ears between her knees. But all she could think about were the words Tristan used back at her apartment. “I don’t remember much about you,either.”

“Much.” What did that even mean? The more she thought about it, the more impossible it became to ignore. He had to remember something. Maybe not their time in the woods, butsomething.

When she finally made it back to her seat, their food was already set on the table, and her brow was set with determination to get some answers. She slid into the booth, finding him relaxed and eating his meal, yet looking so perfect, Samantha had to force herself to look away. Her mind was clouded with confusion. So much so, she could hardly see straight. Because two days with Tristan had sent doubts abouteverythingscorching through herveins.

She poured some creamer into her coffee, fetched a spoon from the table and began to stir. “What do you remember about me?” she whispered. She meant for the words to sound confident, like one of the random questions asked around a bonfire. Like the ones they asked each other in the car. But it came out unsure. Almost frightened. Not strong and steady like she’d intendedthemto.

His brows furrowed and he put down his burger. “What doyoumean?”

“I don’t know?” She shrugged. “I mean, Renee and I have been best friends for ten years. You can’t possibly remembernothing…”

Her words trailed off, and he pushed himself back in his seat and tilted his head. “Hmm… I remember you always wore two braids.” He paused. “Split right down the middle on either side.” He took a sip of coffee and grinned. “I remember you played theflute.”

She nodded and began organizing the sugar packets, listening. “That was me,” she agreed. “Anythingelse?”

He only shrugged, narrowing his eyes slightly as he sat forward. “Iremember…”

But the way he looked at her made her heart start beating faster. Made her grab her spoon and take her first biteofsoup.

“That you and Renee were attached atthehip.”

She took a breath, her lips curving downward. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Wesurewere.”

But then he did something that surprised her. He leaned forward and asked a question ofhisown.

“What do you remember about me?” His voice was low, almost suspicious. Which caused her heart to squeeze and run onoverdrive.

She glanced down at the table, grabbed a cloth napkin, and unfolded it in her lap before looking up again. “I remember a lot,” she said. “I remember you were popular. I remember you having friends by your side every second.” She looked up into his waiting eyes. “You were the quarterback for the West Valley Panthers.” She licked her lips, everything she wanted to say lingering at the tip of her tongue. “I remember…all the summers we spent up at your family’s cabin. Especially the last one.” She was proud of herself for saying it, but at the same time her chest filled with anxiety as she waited for him tospeak.

He took another sip of coffee, his eyes intense as he watched her. As though trying to read her thoughts. She could feel it. The tension accumulating between them. So tight it was as though they were both caughtinvice.

He nodded slowly, a slight confirmation causing her nerves to ignite like fireworksinsideher.

“The cabin,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “I did some stupid stuffthere.”

Her heart pinched at his statement and she turned to look out the window again. “Yeah.” But what she really wanted to do was cry. “Wealldid.”

---