Page 103 of Unravel

“Faceda lot of that, have you?Judgment?” he asks.

Ican’t suppress the sigh that leaves my lungs. “Iguess you could say that is part of what is weighing on me.”

Hetilts his head and locks his gaze with mine. “Who’sjudging you,Evan, and for what?”

CanIreally spill my guts to this stranger?ShouldI?Halfthe stuff racing through my brain, no one knows about, not evenLukeandRachel.Evandergrasps my hand, turns it palm up, and inspects it.

“Youwork with your hands?Sports?”

“Rancher.Well, my dad is a rancher, and yeahIwas a quarterback.”

“Butnone of that is bugging you.Youlike both.”

“Yeah,Idid.”

“Butyou like architecture more?Yourfamily good with that?”

Thefact that he is still holding my hand is beginning to feel a little awkward.

“Yes.Look.Idon’t thinkIwant to talk about my issues.I’mtrying to leave all that behind me.”

Twoplates appear from above causingEvanderto let go of my hand as the waitress sets our food on the table.Iwatch him carefully as he chats upSarah, our waitress.He’scharming, but he is different talking to her than to me.Iwonder which is the true man behind the good looks.Hehas tattoos on one arm, a collection of objects forming a collage.Atthe center is a pocket watch withRomannumerals.Theclock hands appear to be moving quickly, forming a blur in their wake as they spin around the face.

“Iassume you don’t have any ink?” he asks, raising his arm and breaking me out of my thoughts.Ihadn’t even realizedSarahhad left.

“No.”

Heglances at his own and unwraps the napkin from the utensils. “Everthought about getting one?”

“What?No.”Iturn my attention to my food.

“Youmight change your mind one day.”

“Idoubt it.Thatstuff is too permanent for me.Notto mention, my mom would have a heart attack.”

“Ah,” he gestures as if some truth has been revealed. “So, you’re from a goodChristianfamily where tattoos are a sin and drinking leads to hell?”

“Idrink,”Iblurt out, offended by the implications he’s making.

Hetakes a bite, chews, and swallows without taking his eyes off me. “Thoughtyou weren’t old enough to drink.”

“I’mnot,”Iconfess asIbite into my hamburger.

Hechuckles. “Idon’t care, man.LikeIsaid, judgment-free zone.”Hislaugh sets me at ease, andIfeel bad for snapping at him.

“Theyare goodChristianparents, butIstruggle with some of the things they think are sinful.”

“That’sto be expected.Youhave your own mind.Aboutto move to the big city where your beliefs will be tested, and most likely changed.It’sokay, you know.”

“Changingmy beliefs?”

“Becomingyour own man.”

Ilike the sound of that, soIlean into it instead of the guiltIfeel at just the prospect of changing my beliefs.Ipick up a fry and eat it.

“Thepocket watch, does that mean that time is short?”

Helifts his elbow, flexing his bicep where the pocket watch is tattooed. “Immortality.”

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