Page 74 of Boyfriend of the Hour
He glanced back at the kitchen, then at me. Taking stock, no doubt, of the horrible mistake he’d made by inviting me to live with him. Joni Zola, The Great Disappointment.
“Well, for what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I think you’re smart. You’re articulate and interesting and obviously very shrewd when you want to be. I also think you are much more than just a dancer. I think you are capable of just about anything.”
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. If I did, I knew I’d cry.
“Would you ever consider being evaluated?” he wondered as he speared a carrot.
“What’s that going to do now?” I wondered glumly.
“Well, for one, there are medications you can take for ADHD if you need them. If you have a learning disability, there are plenty of therapy options available, even for adults.”
I chuckled. “Oh, Nathan, you’re funny. I’ll put that on the list right after the surgery I’m supposed to pay for with the two hundred dollars currently in my bank account. Well, one seventy-five after getting all the stuff for this meal. Sorry it’s not organic. I can’t afford it.”
With that, I shoved my fork into my pasta and took the biggest bite I could muster. And immediately froze.
“Oh myGod,” I said, though it couldn’t have been understandable through a mouth full of overcooked mush.
“What is it?” Nathan wondered, looking mildly alarmed. “Is everything okay?”
By some miracle, I managed to swallow the bite and not hurl it back up. I shoved my plate away, unable to bear it. God, it even smelled bad now.
“Nathan,” I whispered. “This spaghetti ishorrible.”
Nathan looked down at his now half-eaten plate of food, then back at mine. “Well…yes. But I thought it was supposed to taste like this.”
“You thought spaghetti and meatballs was supposed to taste like ketchup soup and garlicky cardboard?” Before I could stop myself, I fell back in my chair, laughing.
Nathan bit back a smile. “I—well, not generally.”
Before I knew it, we were both laughing. It had to be a record. From tears to hoots in less than five minutes.
The best part, however, was that he was laughing too. I’d make him bad spaghetti anytime if I could listen to that warm, low chuckle whenever I wanted.
“Wait.” I stopped laughing as another thought struck me. “You thought the food was terrible, and you ate it anyway?”
The pink in Nathan’s cheeks flushed a bit darker. “What’s that look? I don’t know that expression yet.”
I blinked and onlyjustmanaged to close my mouth. “It’s—I—I’m surprised, that’s all. No one has ever done something like this for me before.”
“You’re surprised that I ate some bad pasta for you?” He was so obviously adorably confused. “Compared to whom? Why would anyone else have done that?”
“It’s not about the pasta. It’s about how terrible it is.”
This time, I was the one to reach across the table for his hand. He gave it willingly and seemed unable to stop looking at them once they were joined.
“I grew up in a house where everyone just loves to tell each other what they’re doing wrong,” I said. “So, it’s about doing something for someone else just because you want them to feel good. I…thank you, I guess. It’s small, but it means something to me. I guess this look is happiness. In a way.”
Nathan continued staring at our hands, this time with my long, thin fingers laid over his larger, solid ones. Gently, he turned his palm over, wove our fingers together, and squeezed.
“I have a favor to ask of you.” His voice was low. The mirth was gone, but there was something gentler about it. An easeI hadn’t heard before, even though he still sounded slightly nervous.
“What’s that?” Right now, I’d probably give him anything. As it stood, I already owed him more than I’d ever be able to repay.
“I told you about my family, how they worry about me…socially.” Nathan said the words through his teeth. The fingers entwined with mine tensed.
“Like how mine all think I’m an idiot,” I said. “We have that in common, I guess.”
Nathan nodded, and his hand relaxed again.
