Page 20 of Nothing To Lose
"And you're also healing."
Stubborn ass."That still doesn't explain why you're on the floor."
His shoulders sag, as though he was hoping I wouldn't bring it up again. "You were having nightmares, or something."
"Ugh." I slap my palm over my eyes. "Did I talk in my sleep, too?"
"Is that normal for you?" He asks, but I give him a look, not letting him deflect. "Yeah, but I couldn't understand anything you were saying."
Thank goodness for small favors. That's an extra layer of embarrassment I don't need.
"I do it sometimes when I'm stressed or overtired. My freshman year, I lived in the dorms. I woke my roommate and started enthusiastically explaining how positive and negative space could influence the visual flow of his designs."
"Seems like helpful information," he snickers.
"He was a sports science major. Very much a typical jock, and hated my guts. I can't really blame him."
"Not like you could help it."
"Well, there was also the time I found a sock on the doorknob. I griped loudly about how disgusting he was, then busted in on him and his girlfriend in a compromising position." I shudder, remembering how I couldn’t look him in the eye again after that. "Who knew the sock was a universal signal fordon't come in here? Not me."
Isaac snorts. "Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone knows that. But no lessons for me. As much as I would have loved to be educated on visual flow or whatever, I didn't get the pleasure.”
He seems genuinely amused, but also really tired. I need to give him his space back so he can get some rest and get back to work. He mentioned last night that he was doing all of this on his own and only had a short window to complete it in. He doesn't need me holding him back.
"Can I buy you a coffee on my way home?" I ask, trying to find the easiest and most polite segue to leave. That, and I really need to stop atThe Nookto get my coat and phone, assuming they're still there. I hope they are, and I hope the owners will accept my apologies and let me settle the bill without too much grief or banning me from the premises.The Nookisn't exactly close to my apartment or campus, but I've gotten rather fond of going there. The scenery is nice. And they really do make an amazing chai latte.
"Oh. Yeah. Of course."
Is it just me, or does he seem disappointed? I hope I'm not coming off as ungrateful for all he's done for me. I'll need to think of a way to thank him properly. Maybe a gift basket? What would I even put in it, though? It seems like the coffee shop keeps him pretty stocked in baked goods. Maybe some tools? That’s something to think about.
We get ready in silence. When I come out of the bathroom, teeth brushed and hair wetted down, Isaac has put all my things in a drawstring bag. He escorts me out, and I desperately want to stop and ask him about all the work he's doing, what his vision is for the gym. Much of our conversation last night is muddled, but I hung on to every word about his past, and what a hard worker he is. He seems to have a lot of self-deprecating thoughts about how he grew up, or how hard he's had to work to survive, but I find his tenacity and work ethic incredibly impressive. And sexy. Which is the other reason I need to leave. I'm in danger of my little crush growing into infatuation if I'm not careful.
The look on the owners' faces when we walk intoThe Nookwould be humorous if I wasn't so nervous about apologizing for my disappearance the other night. That, and the way their faces morph from wide-eyed, almost joyous surprise, to concerned horror after doing a double take of my face. The swelling has gone down some, but it’s still ugly. How am I going to get through my classes or see anyone I know without having to come up with some kind of excuse?
The young woman who typically works the counter smiles kindly, but I can still see the worry and curiosity written on her face.
"Hey there, you two…" she greets, looking back and forth between us waiting for some explanation.
The owners, whose names I can never remember, perk up in such an obvious way that it gets my hackles up. Why exactly is it so interesting that the two of us would walk in together? Isaac mentioned something about wishful thinking on their part, but I don't think I really caught on until just now.
Isaac approaches the counter, and although he isn't saying anything, I can tell from the movement of his arm and the facial expression on the girl's face that he's making some kind of gesture. Brenna, I read on her nametag when I can get close enough, looks highly amused about something.
"What exactly is going on here?" I ask. I feel like I'm about to be pranked or something.
"That's what we'd like to know," says the older of the two owners, the one who usually works the dining room. His stern countenance seems put-on, but that could be because I've never seen him be anything other than aggressively friendly to everyone who comes into this place.
I clear my throat. "About that. May I speak to you for a moment, please?"
He side-eyes his husband, then shrugs and gestures for me to follow him. He leads me through the kitchen entrance and back into an office, where he hands me my coat, my phone tucked into the pocket.
"Thank you, Mr…"
"Just Anders is fine. And you're Tyler. I always remember a regular's name."
"Well, thank you for seeing me," I say. "I owe you a huge apology for the other night. I didn't mean to leave abruptly like that, and I certainly didn't mean to walk out on the bill. I promise it was unintentional, and I’d like to settle that immediately."
"Don't concern yourself with that," he says, laying a hand on my shoulder and locking his kind eyes on mine. "We were more worried about you, and rightly so, I see. Are you okay?"
