“Nothing for me,” I said as I glanced over my shoulder at the empty parking lot, scanning the barely lit street adjacent to the lot. The neighborhood looked questionable, at best.
Maybe it was the lack of street lights, or just my own paranoia, but waiting out here by myself suddenly didn’t feel like an altogether great idea.
“I’m ordering yousomething,” he persisted. “Might as well tell me what you like.”
“Sure, that’s fine.” I wasn’t paying attention anymore. I flung my passenger side door open and climbed out. “I’m coming inside with you.”
I caught his stare over the roof of his car, his expression bewildered by my bizarro behavior, and then his eyes softened some, seemingly treated with a dose of understanding.
Once inside the restaurant, I made my way to a two-seater table by the window facing the parking lot and waited while Trace ordered his food. I felt safer having a panorama view of the area in case I needed to, I don’t know, run for my life.
After a few minutes, Trace appeared with the food.
“I got you a cheeseburger and fries, and one of those strawberry shakes you order at lunch sometimes.” He pushed the tray in front of me and sat down.
I stared back at him, surprised that he noticed what I ordered at lunch, especially since his eyes generally spent most of their time in another direction (that direction beinganydirection that wasn’t mine). Or at least that’s how it seemed.
He dropped his eyes and picked up his own cheeseburger, sinking his teeth in and biting off nearly a quarter of it.
“Thanks,” I said, examining his ever-guarded expression. “How much do I owe you?”
He looked up from his dark lashes and shook his head.
I thanked him again and turned my attention back to the window, keeping care of my surroundings.
“How have you been?” he asked after a short pause. His voice was low, cautious. “Since the other night,” he added unnecessarily. I already knew what we were talking about.
His eyes bounced around my face as though he were trying to gauge my answer before I gave it.
“Fine.” I forced a smile.
“Did you talk to your uncle about what happened?” He picked up his burger without looking up this time.
I shook my head.
“Why not?” he asked, meeting my eyes again.
I felt his leg brush up against mine and nearly lost my train of thought. “I...I’d rather just forget the whole thing.”
“That’s pretty stupid,” he said under his breath, though it was more than audible.
“Excuseme?”
Where the hell did he get off judging me? He had no idea what I’d been through. What I wasstillgoing through. I was barely hanging on as it was, coping the only way I knew how. Who was he to tell me that it was wrong?
A jeering rumble emitted from him. “It’s wrong. And stupid. I don’t really care how you justify it.”
My head snapped up and locked in on his hooded eyes. Why did that sound like he just answered my thought?
He took a sip of his drink, and then sank back in his chair. His legs stretched out in front of him, coming out on either side of me—fencing me in.
“Pretending something didn’t happen, doesn’t make it go away. You get that right?”
“I’m not pretending it didn’t happen.” It came out far more defensive than I had intended it to.
“No?” He raised his brows. “What do you call it then?”
“I call it…” I didn’t have an answer. “Just mind your own business and stay out of mine!”