Page 59 of Only the Small Bones
“An umbrella won’t do you any good in this weather anyway. There’s a coat rack in the kitchen.” We weaved through the unoccupied tables toward the swinging doors in the back.
“As you know, communal lunch ended at one. If anyone wants to eat before dinner, they can do so from their residence. You two will be alone.”
Ryan’s strict instructions to get here after one made sense now. He’d wanted to make sure we were uninterrupted. I’d been too thrilled about seeing him again to pick up on that. He’d planned this out with purpose, and my stomach fluttered with excitement.
“He’s nervous, you know.”
“Wait, did he say that?”
“No, Mr. Fickle—as I like to call him—hasn’t uttered a word. But I caught him staring into the rainy parking lot a couple times.” She stopped with a hand on the kitchen door, lowering her voice. “And he changed his outfitthreetimes.” She smiled as though she were fond of him, then pushed the door open and gestured for me to go in.
Ryan sat at an intimate table for two in the rear of the kitchen, hunched over a piece of paper resting in a manila folder. From the way his pencil worked, as if he were shading something in, I assumed it was a sketch. The door closed behind me, leaving us alone.
“Hi,” I said, and he scrambled to his feet, his pencil rolling onto the floor. He’d been too preoccupied to hear me enter. “What are you drawing there?” I craned my neck to see as I hungmy satchel on the coat rack. Ryan frowned, slamming the folder closed, amusing me.
“I miss your frowns,” I said, then remembered the nickname Peggy called him, “Mr. Fickle.”
Ryan looked at the door and his features turned tender. He had a soft spot for the older woman too.
I hung my wet trench coat next to my satchel. Ryan studied the green sweater I wore at his request. There was no denying the heat in his gaze when our eyes met again.
“You look nice,” I said. He wore a vintage Stone’s t-shirt with the short sleeves rolled above his shoulders. He complimented the look with slim fitting jeans and black loafers. I’d only ever seen him in the clothes I’d picked out for him. Sweats and basic-tees mostly. This new, stylish look suited him. He seemed comfortable in his own skin.
He whipped his phone from his back pocket and typed something into it. My phone chirped behind me. I fished it out of my bag.
Ryan:I got my first paycheck last week. Peggy helped me get a prepaid debit card, then showed me how to shop online. I thought it looked cool.
“It looksreallygood. Shows off your muscles.” I wiggled my brows and felt satisfied when he grinned.
Ryan:I’m lifting weights with Shawn now.
“You and Chef Shawn seem to be getting close,” I said wryly. Ryan’s lips twitched.
Ryan:Jealous?
“Of course. Shawn’s a good looking guy.” I aimed for playful, but only halfway succeeded.
Ryan:You’ve noticed?
“And you haven’t?” I scoffed, laughing when he shrugged his shoulders.
We spent the next few minutes taking each other in, appreciating all the things we hadn’t seen in a while, and taking inventory of the things that weren’t the same.
Ryan:Your hair looks different.
“Ah, yeah. I let it grow for a few weeks, then got a haircut. This is how it was when you met me.” I ran a hand over my fade. “Your hair’s straight.” It made his beauty mark more pronounced. Maybe because the typical wild state of his hair no longer hid his face.
Ryan:Lucy did it. She lives in the women’s residence. We have the same tutor. She said it would make me look hot.
He dropped his gaze to his loafers.
“You were already hot. I love it both ways.”
He’d gone to a lot of trouble for this lunch. I tried my best to feel deserving of it.
“You have to tell him.”My mother’s words rang inside my head.
“I will,”I’d promised.
