“Or you could have them all,” I add. “If you want.” She looks up at me, her cheeks pink and her eyes wide. “I mean, why choose, right? I’m sure they’re all good.”
Nora lets out a heavy sigh as she asks, “Which one would you pick?”
I think about her question. I’m not really much of a sweets guy—that’s Russ’s addiction, not mine.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’ve never tried any of them.”
“Never?” she asks. “You telling me you’ve never had a Danish?”
I shake my head as she stares at me in disbelief.
“No cherry, cheese, blueberry, or anything?”
“Nope.” I shrug. “When I was a kid, my mom went through this thing where she thought gluten was like the devil for kids like me…”
I stop as Nora looks at me in question. “Kids like you?”
I shift uncomfortably. “Yeah. You know, autistic and all.”
She nods carefully. “Right. Totally forgot,” she says calmly. It’s the way she says it. Like she trulydidforget. Because when Nora looks at me, she doesn’t see a guy with autism. She doesn’t see a guy related to some big shot NHL player.
She just seesme.
She smirks at me. And that makes my heart beat a little faster.
“How about we share, then?” she says.
“Huh?”
She nods to the bag of sweets I still hold. “First time for everything, right?”
Her words hit me harder than they should. I know we’re talking about pastries, but…it feels like we’re not just talking about pastries.
But I can’t tell, because she’s not being direct, and I do better when people are direct and say what they mean. I hate trying to read between the lines.
But I don’t focus on that.
I focus on her. On her body language. Russ always says that bodies have their own language and sometimes it helps in figuring out stuff. Like whether or not a smile is genuine or fake. Or if someone’s nervous, they might bite their lip.
Like Nora is doing right now…
Is she nervous? Am I making her nervous?
She smiles softly at me.
“Okay,” I say as she offers for me to sit in one of the open chairs. I do. She snatches the bag from me and pulls out the cherry Danish first and sets the bag on the counter. I watch as she leans her back against the counter, watch as she breaks the Danish in half. She hands one half to me, and I take it, our fingers brushing and some of the red filling spreading on our skin.
She holds her half up as if it’s a glass.
“To trying new things,” she says with a smile. The words somehow instill a confidence in me I never knew before.
“To trying new things,” I say, and then I take my first bite.
The sugar explodes in my mouth. It’s sweet. Super sweet, but…
Not bad.
She moans in happiness, and I smile as I take another bite.