Page 31 of Show Me How to Heal
We entered the diner — though it looked nothing like the diners I’d seen on TV, rather like a regular restaurant — and were shown to our table. I kept walking really close to Zayne to show him my support, our arms bumping against each other until we were seated, and I was finally,finallyable to grab his hand.
And I did. Both of them, reveling in their warmth, feeling his soft skin beneath my far rougher one.
“You’re a good friend,” I told him, smiling at him. The gratefulness in his dark eyes took my breath away for a moment. He made me want to share. Tell him things about me that I didn’t tell others, and I shouldn’t tell him, but… “I broke my brother and his boyfriend up,” I blurted.
“What?”
“Sorry. You shared something personal, and I wanted to… reciprocate?” I sounded pathetic, but at this point, I was getting used to it. And Zayne didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he seemed to appreciate the honesty.
“Okay… if you’re willing to share… spill the T.”
Ha! I knew that proverb… phrase… whatever. I knew it.
“Well… there’s not much to tell, to be honest. Nothing juicy. I didn’t catch him cheating on my brother, and I didn’t have an affair with him — that would’ve been weird since my brother and I are identical twins. I’m the more attractive one, though.” Zayne snorted a laugh. “I guess my brother’s ex felt neglected because my brother was visiting me in the hospital a lot. I was really, really down. Like, I had an emotional break-down. He and my parents supported me and spent a lot of time with me. One day, my brother’s ex told him it was either me or him. Well… my brother’s single again.”
“That’s such a stupid and toxic ultimatum,” Zayne said, rolling his eyes. “Like seriously? Your identical twin brother or me… What did that guy expect?”
“No idea.” I shrugged. After my heart-to-heart with Moritz a week ago, I didn’t feel that guilty about their break-up anymore, but Zayne was furious. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’d have been steam coming out of his ears. Well, I’d certainly managed to change the topic and get him out of his head — for better or worse. I stroked the back of his hand soothingly with my thumb, trying to get him to relax a little.
We were still holding hands when the server came. I almost expected him to let go of mine, but he didn’t. He smiled at me, squeezing my hands a little as he told the waitress what he wanted to drink and eat before blanching.
“Shit! Sorry. You didn’t even have the menu!” He looked at me with his eyes wide open. “That was so rude. Sorry. I know the menu by heart and pretty much always order the same thing.” He turned towards the waitress. “Could you come back later for our food order? Damn.”
I was more amused than anything. I certainly wasn’t angry with him.
“Why don’t you order for me?” I suggested teasingly. “I mean, if you know the menu so well…”
“Are you serious?”
I shrugged. I’d spent years of my life eating what was good for me. What I was supposed to eat even though I’d hated it sometimes. Egg white-omelets? Barf! “Sure, go ahead.” I really hoped he’d order a burger. Because if I was the one choosing my meal, I probably wouldn’t. Eating healthy was so fucking ingrained in my brain that I almost always chose the healthy option.
“Okay… Uhm…” Zayne cocked his head, eyeing me carefully. “I think you crave something… unhealthy. Like a burger.”
Yes!
“But you’ll probably feel bad about it later on, so… he’ll take the grilled chicken sandwich,” Zayne told the waitress. “A salad on the side… the one with arugula, mozzarella cheese, dried tomatoes, and that raspberry dressing.”
The waitress nodded, writing everything down, while I was staring at Zayne with my mouth agape. He’d… wow! I hadn’t expected him to be so spot-on, but he’d basically ordered the perfect dish. Well, the salad sounded delicious, but I wasn’t that sure about the sandwich.
I really wanted a burger. I’d have taken a chicken burger. But a sandwich? Soggy toast with a little salad, pulled chicken, and mayo? Not my first choice. I hated toast. In Germany it wasn’t even considered bread. It wasToastbrot— a subpar version of bread only to be eaten after being toasted in a toaster oven. But for Zayne? I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
I noticed he was watching the waitress with uncertainty, his brows knitting and relaxing, his nose scrunching up a little. While I was still trying to figure out what was going on with him, he gave the barest head shake before letting out a disappointed sigh. The waitress couldn’t leave fast enough because I wanted to know what was going on with him — and I would find out.
As soon as the waitress, whose name was Kathy if her name tag was correct, turned around and walked off, I squeezed Zayne’s hand and cocked my head.
“What was going on with you just now?” I asked.
Zayne’s eyes widened. “You noticed?”
“You doing a lot of weird stuff with your handsome face? Yeah, I noticed.”
Zayne snorted a laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. It didn’t even reach his mouth, the corners firmly downturned. “It’s… it’s stupid,” he said with a sigh. “I was contemplating asking the waitress to let Adam know I’m here.”
“That’s not stupid,” I replied, squeezing his hand tighter when he shot me a doubting look.
“If it’s not stupid, what would you call me pathetically hoping he’d come out of the kitchen to say hi even though he hasn’t answered any of my weekly texts in months?”
“I…” I didn’t have the word. “Not pathetic. You’refürsorglich… uhm… considerate, thoughtful. You’re being a good friend.”
