Page 20 of What We Broke

I slide my hand out from under his. “What are you doing?”

“Stop overthinking this,” he soothes.

Before I have a chance to argue, the server returns, holding a large tray full of food high above her head. One at a time, she arranges the plates on the table.

Pancakes, eggs, bacon, crispy hash browns, chicken and waffles, French toast, and two empty plates.

I wait for a reaction from Jesse, but all he does is hand me some cutlery and a plate. When I ordered, I subconsciously may have hoped that ordering all this food would turn him off, but he doesn’t seem the least bit fazed.

Lastly, she puts our drinks in the middle of the table and drops down the bill. I guess with free refills and the whole breakfast menu in front of us, it’s a safe assumption that we won’t be ordering any more or leaving anytime soon.

We’ll be lucky if we even finish the food.

Grabbing his cutlery, Jesse cuts into the pancakes and serves himself a triple-stacked slice. He then proceeds to take a portion of every dish, creating a pile of mismatched food in front of him.

It’s both gross and somewhat endearing.

“Are you really going to eat all that?” I ask.

He stops the fork full of food mid-air. “Isn’t that why you ordered it?”

“So… what?” I ask stupidly. “We just sit here and eat and talk?”

He shoves a heap of crispy hash browns into his mouth and nods.

He continues to eat, tasting everything all at once, taking a sip of his drink after every bite, and I continue to watch. I’m completely out of my element yet one hundred percent entranced by this man.

Shaking my head, I grab my fork and knife and cut myself some French toast. Jesse eyes me as soon as I put some into my mouth, and as soon as the square of bread touches my tongue, I know why.

It’s cold and soggy, and the overpowering taste of egg makes it impossible to swallow. I search for a napkin and quickly bring the tissue up to my mouth, spitting the bread into it.

Jesse smugly hands me my drink and I take a long suck out of the straw, the fizzy liquid making my nose sting.

“What the fuck was that?” I breathe out, pushing the drink away from me. “You knew the whole time,” I accuse. “But you just kept on eating.”

Still smirking, he wordlessly puts some bacon in his mouth. And for some ridiculous reason, I follow suit, tasting nothing but salt and regretting it instantly.

“Jesus.” I take another sip out of my straw and lean over the table, snatching Jesse’s fork out of his hand. “It’s horrible. Stop it.”

“It’s not that bad,” he counters, trying to take back the cutlery.

“Are you crazy? Stop eating it. We can go find something else,” I ramble.

He stills. “We can?”

“We can what?”

“Find somewhere else to eat?”

It takes a few seconds for my brain to realize what I’ve said and what Jesse is asking. I shake my head from side to side. “You really are crazy, you know that? You were going to sit through all of this just so I would stay?”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

He isn’t. It’s the perfect reason to get up and leave. If we aren’t going to fuck, I have my out and I need to use it.

But I don’t.

“You’re wrong,” I say, surprising us both. “I’ll give you twenty-four hours.”

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