Page 23 of Between Us

I can’t say I hate where my night has ended up—not at all. The half-written paper due next week, and the study guides for my upcoming exams, can all wait a couple more hours if it means I can spend that time with Blake.

“Waffles,” she says with a surefire decisiveness. I like seeing her so confident, but I’m amused at how serious she is aboutthis. She gives me a little smirk over her shoulder, already walking in that direction. “You can laugh all you want, but you already promised to pay.”

“Fair enough,” I tease and stride forward, catching up with her quickly.

I wait with Blake while she orders her ridiculously curated waffles and pay, but after making a plan for her to find a table when her food’s ready, I head over toFinger Lickin’ Good BBQ.

Immediately, I’m impressed with how customizable the menu is, making me assume that it could be tailored for diets and working out. Personally, exercise and lifting became an outlet. It’s helped me to break up the academia and move my body during the day. I was a pretty scrawny kid though, so the weights and large appetite have only worked in my favor as I’ve gotten older.

So, I decide to splurge on the brisket plate with sweet potato fries and coleslaw.

While I wait for food, I look around, trying to find Blake in the crowd. It isn’t too busy—probably because it’s a Monday—so it only takes me a few seconds to find her. When I do, I chuckle under my breath at the sight of her waffles. I’m sure it’ll be even more absurd up close.

Thankfully, my food comes out soon after so I can get back to the table and watch Blake devour the sweet concoction. I drop down in the seat across from her and nod toward her plate. “You could’ve started to eat.”

She shakes her head and looks up from her phone, laying it on the table. She leaves the screen up, seeming to not even think about it, and I like that. It’s such a small gesture. But it feels like even if she’s guarded, she isn’t trying to hide anything either.

“I didn’t mind waiting for you. Plus, you need to see it in all its glory.” She waves a hand out and we both laugh, though hers is a little more shy.

“I’m all for dessert and sweets, butthat… that’s a bit much.”

Mostly, I’m giving her a hard time. She did basically make it an ice cream sundae—vanilla soft serve, chocolate sauce, peanuts, with bananas and cherries included—but it’s the extra sprinkles and whipped cream that really takes it to that next level.

I like that Blake has a sweet tooth, and doesn’t feel any unneeded embarrassment from eating what she wants—even if that’s a waffle sundae at eight p.m.

Shrugging timidly, she cuts into her food. “Ilovethe carne asada tacos, but I beat a personal record today.”

Watching with a small tug to my lips, I ask, “What was your record?”

“About two years ago, I swam the 100 meter in a minute and three seconds. But today, I did it in a minute and a second.” She smiles to herself, taking her first bite.

“Congratulations,” I praise. Despite leaning more toward mental activities than physical ones, I was still competitive. This is obviously a big accomplishment for her, and she’s celebrating it over waffles withme. “Do you still swim competitively?”

“No,” she replies after she swallows. “I stopped during my junior year. But I love it. For me, not anyone else.”

There’s so many questions forming in my brain, starting withwhydid she stop competing. Something in the back of my mind tells me that’s too personal of a question though. I don’t get the impression Blake wouldn’t have quit what she’s passionate about without a damn good reason.

I end up going with, “I think it says a lot about how much it means to you then.”

She seems to appreciate the deflection, her shoulders visibly relaxing. We carry on in easy conversation like that for a while. She avoids any topics surrounding the years she was in secondary school, outside of her two best friends and swimming.

She doesn’t seem to have any problems talking about either of those. I learn about the reserved, but secretly lively, Meera and the protective gothic one, Margo. But I also find out that Blake didn’tjustswim competitively. She’s really fucking good. Great, apparently, since her record is nearly pushing collegiate levels.

“Why didn’t you go to college for it?” It’s the first time I’ve brought that subject up since I made the assumption she was already attending a university.

“For swimming?” she asks, genuinely surprised by the question. I guess it’s the same thing as asking why she quit but it just blurted out. “Honestly? By the time I was old enough to seriously start considering being scouted for anything higher, I had learned my lesson about… a lot of things.”

That stands out to me, particularly that pause. Blake’s younger than me, but she carries herself like she’s lived a hundred years sometimes.

“One of them being that swimming ismything,mycomfort,” she continues. “Sometimes I miss the races and adrenaline, but when something as big as your education depends on it, it’s not fun anymore. There wasn’t an ounce of enjoyment for it once I got the scholarship to the private school. And even if I wanted to be an Olympian, I’m notthatgood. Plus, I don’t even know what I want to do for a career. College seems pointless to me. At least right now,” she adds.

“That’s fair. Even undergrad was a lot of work.”

She looks at me for a long moment. “Have you always wanted to be a veterinarian?”

I nod, finishing my bite. The food is freaking delicious, so I’ll definitely be stopping here on my way home from work now and then. “At least since I was a sophomore in high school, I’d say. My parents are nurses. I’ve always admired them—even seeing them as real-life superheroes while I was a kid—but I’ve never been drawn to the healthcare field.

“My best friend’s younger sister has epilepsy, and her service dog got cancer. It was a really hard time for her. He’d been with her since she was just a toddler. He was pretty young and retired after that. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain, but that changed something for me.”

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