Page 52 of Told You So
I sit on the stool beside him and take a bite of my BLT. The bacon is perfect, the sourdough bread still warm in my mouth, and I groan. “This is so good.” I glance at Nick’s burger, then remember our pizza. “Why is it I always eat crap food when I’m with you?”
“What? BLTs are good for you—you have every food group. And pizza isn’t crap food, it’s a staple.”
“I’d like to see you try to convince mothers everywhere that’s true.”
Nick’s smile grows again. “Moms love me, you know. I might actually be able to.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it. Everyone loves you, it seems.” His eyes shift to mine. “You know what I mean.”
“So, quickly,” Nick says, swallowing, “before I decide I don’t want to do any work whatsoever tonight, where are we at with the furniture orders and delivery? The floors will be ready Friday.”
I swallow and wipe the crumbs from my mouth. “Well, I emailed Sam a bunch of links. As soon as she chooses, which she promised would be tomorrow since our deadline is creeping up on us, I can get the furniture ordered. The only issue is, delivery will likely be a week from then, give or take. So, I think we should go to Benton on Saturday and pick out the accents, like the rugs and wall pieces—essentially make it a mall day so we can get started on at least part of it. What do you think?”
“Other than I hate shopping?”
I nod.
“Sounds like a plan.” A pickle drops from his burger and he pops it into his mouth. “Anything else?”
Breaking off a wayward piece of bacon, I take a bite, then wipe up his pickle splatter with my napkin. I can’t help it, and when I feel his eyes on me, I look at him sheepishly. “Um, no, I don’t think so. Not right now. I figure once the hard stuff is decided, we can worry about putting the portfolio together. That won’t take much time, and I could really use this in-between-time to study for my GRE.”
“How’s that going, by the way?”
I shrug. “Slow going, but that’s expected. I just wish I wasn’t so stressed out about it.”
“I can see why you would be,” Nick says, balling up his wrapper and dropping it into the bag. Jesse watches him, though he’s still working on his burger, falling to pieces in his hands. “It’s a big deal.”
“It’s like every test has led up to this moment, and I feel like I should be more prepared, but I’m not. It just gets...frustrating.”
Nick dumps the rest of his fries out on a napkin and deposits the garbage in the compactor. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. “Do you have class?”
“Thursdays? No. I work at four, though. Jesse’s off this week for Spring Break, so we’ll likely run errands or something.” I stick the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth. “Why?” Part of me wants to be prim and proper while I’m stuffing my face, but it’s too good to care.
“I think I know how to help you with your exam,” he says thoughtfully. He glances around the counter, looking for something. When he finds a note pad and pen, he jots down an address and slides it over to me. “Meet me here tomorrow around ten or so. Bring Jesse.”
I reach over to their fry pile and snatch one for myself. “Why are you being so cryptic?”
“Because, if I tell you where you’re going, you won’t show up,” he admits, and I don’t like the sound of that. “Bethany, just trust me, okay? I want to help you, and I can. So, let me.”
“You should do it, Beth,” Jesse says.
“Are you still on my side or his?” I ask playfully.
Jesse shrugs. “You’ve been stressing out for, like, ever.”
I pop another fry, drenched in barbeque sauce, into my mouth and eye Nick closely as I consider his offer. “Trust you, huh?”
He nods. “Yeah. Trust me.” His gaze is steady, sincere.
“Okay,” I finally say.
Jesse balls up what’s left of his cheeseburger, like Nick did, and he drops it in the remaining garbage bag. “Before you touchanything,” I tell him, “you better wash your hands, J. I’m serious.”
“I will,” he grumbles and walks toward the bathroom. I pop one last fry in my mouth with a guttural groan. “You’re right, these are pretty awesome.”
Nick winks. “Told ya.”
Unable to stand a messy counter, I pick up what’s left of the fries and the garbage and toss it into the trash. I wet the sponge and start wiping off the counter, all while Nick’s eyes are on me. I feel them. I always feel them. It used to make me uncomfortable in class, like he was judging me, but here, after all that’s transpired between us, it sends a tingle through me. “You’re staring again—you’re always staring.” I finally look at him.
