Page 12 of Lost Boy
My Coke is ice-cold, and the carbonation tickles my nose as I chug half of it. Next, I scoop up a huge bite of pot pie, nearly moaning as the flavors burst across my tongue. This is homemade all the way. None of that frozen crap. Actually, I like the frozen kind too. Not gonna lie.
I don’t stop until my plate is clean, only slowing down for a few drinks in between. When I’m done, I subtly and silently burp into my shoulder before settling back in my seat to relax my stomach.
I will never take food for granted.
Ever.
I glance up to find four sets of eyes staring at me in various degrees of concern, amusement, and maybe a little awe.
“What?” I say roughly, folding my arms across my chest defensively.
I’m tired of all these emotions leaking out of me today. I don’t care what people think. This isn’t me.
Alejandro is the first to speak up. “Nothing, mijo. Just glad you enjoyed the food and made it through the inhalation process safely and securely without any obstructions. I would hate to have to give you the Heimlich on our first meeting.”
There’s a beat of silence before Sofia bursts out laughing. “Dad! Stop it!”
“Yes, Al, don’t tease Fallon. He doesn’t know our humor yet.” Uncle Joel turns to me, blue eyes careful and sincere. “He’s just teasing, Fallon.”
“Yeah, dude. Don’t worry about it. I know this shit is bomb. Just like the tapioca at lunch.” Ryder winks at me, and my stomach does that stupid thing again. That flippy thing. “Don’t pay attention to my old man’s corny jokes. You’ll get used to them soon enough, no matter how shocking they can be when you first meet him.”
“Yeah, Dad. Tone it down, please!” Sofia says, giggling from across the table. Alejandro just beams from ear to ear, peering around the table at his family. And maybe that even includes me.
These people are so nice, and I’ll say it again.
Who the fuck is like this?
I remember Dad being kind and thoughtful, and I guess Mom was nicebefore. But it was never quite likethis. So fucking positive and expressive.
I feel uncomfortable.
I really hope there’s dessert to distract me.
As if reading my mind, Ryder jumps up, ignoring his half-eaten food. “Come on, I’ll show you where Joel hides all the good ice cream.”
“Hey! So, you’re the one who’s been eating all my double chocolate chunk!”
Sofia places her small hand in front of her mouth, pink glitter nails sparkling in the warm overhead lighting, and giggles more.
Joel gasps in mock outrage, clutching his chest. “You?! My little Sofie? Eating my special ice cream in secret?”
“Sorry, Joel, but I’m not the only one. Who do you think showed it to me?”
“Sofia, cariño. That was our secret,” Alejandro whines to his daughter.
“Let’s go,” Ryder whispers to me while his family continues to tease and enjoy themselves over dinner.
Probably like normal families do. I’m not sure. This is unfamiliar, uncharted territory.
I slip out of the chair and follow Ryder into the modest, modern kitchen with sage green walls and dark wood cabinets. He walks over to a deep freezer tucked into the far corner, partially obscured by the massive wine rack on the wall and the wet bar beneath it.
“Sorry, my family can come on a little strong sometimes. They’re just really outgoing and don’t think about the fact that others may not be too. But everyone really likes you, and we just want to make you feel welcome. In our own weird ways, I guess?”
He’s perceptive.
God, why does he have to be so understanding?
This isn’t good for the fucking roller coaster ride my stomach has been on today. I don’t like amusement parks, and I definitely don’t like that my stomach flips upside down and inside out because of this smiling boy with the curly, sun-kissed hair and flawlessly tan skin.
