Page 31 of Severance

“Are you kidding me?” Excitement bursts through me like a dozen small fireworks. “I love Patty’s milkshakes.” What amazes me isn’t even the fact that he put me, dinner, and a private jet in one sentence. It’s the fact that he actually knows a place I like.

“Right. It’s the only diner in Portland open after ten.” Dakota’s laughter, lively and deep, fills my head, and I wonder how the light and the dark coexist in him without disturbing each other.

Outside, a layer of fine snow has already dusted the ground, the trees, and the cars. The city looks like a magical ice kingdom. The snowflakes squeak faintly under the weight of our boots as we make our way to Dakota’s car. He reaches for my hand and his long fingers slip between mine.

“Is this a date?” My voice comes out as a strained whisper.

Dakota slows his pace and turns to face me, our hands still linked together. “Do you want this to be a date?” he asks, tilting his head to the side. The streetlight shimmering at us from above flickers across the skin on his cheek.

“Yeah,” I breathe out. “I do.”

“Then it’s a date,” he mouths at me as his grasp on my hand tightens.

When we arrive at Patty’s, the snow is coming down hard. It’s covered every single thing outside, including a homeless man seated near the entrance. I don’t know his name, but I’ve seen him here before a few times during the summer.

We walk into the diner and after we grab a table, I wait for Dakota to get our order.

I’m a bit curious if anyone working here is going to notice who I’m here with. This is our—my and Jess’s—spot, and this is the first time she hasn’t been present for the milkshake tradition.

“Strawberry.” Dakota sets my cup in front of me and slides onto the bench across the table. His forehead and his coat are now covered with tiny rivulets of water.

“Chocolate chip cookie?” I ask, studying the brown swirls of crumbs in his milkshake.

“Wanna try?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, nibbling on the straw.

“I don’t really like chocolate,” I murmur as my gaze diverts to the foggy window. The tiny white flakes outside are still hard at work.

“How can you not like chocolate?” Dakota laughs. “Are you even human?”

“I think so.” I search through my purse and fish out a ten-dollar bill. “Can you excuse me for a second?”

“Do you want something else? I’ll get it.” His eyes dart to the cash in my hand.

“No. It’s okay. Can you wait here?”

“Sure,” he answers.

“Be right back.”

After I buy a hot dog and a large order of fries, I go outside and give the food to the homeless man.

Dakota’s motionless in his seat, his eyes following me through the dining room as I make my way back to our table. The silence between us lasts for a good minute. He’s probably waiting for an explanation and it takes me a little while to come up with one.

“My parents…” I hesitate and the words disappear from my lips.Givegenerously to them and do so without a grudging heart…

Dakota bites the tip of his straw and waits; his gaze is a blend of softness and intensity.

“My parents do some volunteer work at the church we go to,” I explain, pushing my hair, which is damp from the melting snowflakes, away from my flushed face.

He plucks the straw from his mouth, scoots his milkshake to the side, and lays his hand on the table in front of me.

I dig some coins out of the pocket of my coat and place them in his palm. I’m not sure why. He makes me do irrational things.

“Silly.” Dakota smiles, glancing at the quarters then back at me. “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“Oh.” A low gasp leaves my mouth and my cheeks burn. “Okay. You can.” I slip my fingers in between his.

“So… What else do you do besides feeding homeless and going to rock concerts?”

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