Page 120 of Tell Me When It's Over

he entire right side of her body brushing against mine along the short trek. It’s not too packed today, thankfully, and the noise level isn’t bad. The section we sit at has more older couples talking amongst themselves than the other side of the diner, which means less chance of anyone bothering us.

It isn’t until we get our drink orders taken by the same older woman who greeted us by the door that Leighton clears her throat. “There are people staring,” she murmurs, eyes scanning absently over the menu she’s holding.

“I know.”

“It doesn’t bother you?”

Lifting a shoulder, I say, “I’m used to it.”

Her head nods slowly, her eyes darting to the side where a few tables clear across the dining room are all blatantly gawking. “I’ve never understood how people can get used to this. It’s not something I think I ever will get used to.”

My lips flicker downward for a moment before I offer her a casual smile when she glances back over to me. “It’s more about accepting that it comes with the territory.”

She makes a considerate face. “I guess.”

I chuckle at her reluctant answer. “It’s not so bad, Lenny.”

We’re left to silence as we look over the menu items, only other people’s conversations filling the space between us. When I decide what to order, I set the plastic menu down and notice Leighton’s eyes are on me again.

Before I can even ask what she’s thinking, she blurts, “You haven’t called me Lele in a while.”

I blink, momentarily surprised by her abrupt statement. I haven’t called her that because the nickname no longer fits. The past version of us would have left little hesitation for me to call her Lele, but she’s not that innocent pre-teen who apologized after what an asshole I was shortly after she and Katherine showed up.

Lele was a young girl who needed somebody on her side because she had nobody else.

Lenny is a young woman who has people looking out for her but knows she doesn’t need it because she can fend for herself.

She’s grown up. Stronger.

“You’re not Lele anymore to me,” I tell her honestly, watching her eyes widen a fraction. Before she can misinterpret my words, I lean forward and say, “You’re more than the twelve-year-old I met all those years ago. I don’t want Lele.”

Her breath hitches.

“I want Leighton.”

She blinks. Then blinks again. Exhaling quietly, she whispers, “You do?”

Looking around the room, I realize this isn’t where I planned on having this conversation, but it’ll do. “Last week you asked me why I haven’t given any girl a chance.” Slowly, she nods, waiting for me to enlighten her with a point. “It’s because I couldn’t just watch TV with them in silence, or poke fun about their interests knowing they’d poke back or laugh with them when they roasted me about something I deserved. I went on dates with women who I knew wouldn’t last because they weren’t who I was looking for in the long run.”

Her lips part, but nothing passes them.

“I don’t know what’s going on between us, Lenny. All I know is that something has changed. And maybe I’m reaching, but it seems like whatever this is, is something neither one of us would mind exploring. I’ll always be your friend, no matter what you decide, but I’m a selfish bastard and want more than that if I can have it.”

She sits back in her chair staring at me with pink cheeks and parted lips, and I try not worrying about what she’s thinking. The small thread of hope I’m holding onto is the move she made on me—the way she kissed me. And if that’s all I’ll get, if I’m reading into this and grasping at straws, then I’ll have to accept that and move on with my life.

Eventually, I let out a small breath of relief when she says, “I’m scared.”

I don’t have to ask why because I know.

She’s scared about it not working out.

She’s scared of what others will think.

She’s scared of a lot.

“I am too.” I shrug loosely, knowing that we can’t let that stop us. “We don’t have to advertise this, not right away. But if you decide I’m worth the headache, then I want people to know. You’ve never been a secret to me.”

Her top teeth dig into her bottom lip, and I can tell she’s contemplating everything I’m tossing at her. The pros, the cons—and I know there are far more of those than anything. She doesn’t like the spotlight, and that’s what she’ll get if she gives this a chance.

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