19. June #3
Well, crap. I probably should’ve planned this out better, but here I am. Folding my arms, I ignore the burning gaze on my back, along with the sharp one accompanying Ford’s date’s attention as I close the distance between us.
“Can I…talk to you for a minute?” I ask.
His arm drops from the girl’s waist, and he hands her a small stack of tickets. “I’ll come find you.”
“Oh.” Her bottom lip juts out into a pout. “Okay.”
As she walks to one of the closest booths, Ford faces me again and cocks his head.
I stay quiet, unsure what to say now that I’m here.
“Cat got your tongue, June Bug?”
“Why’d you do it?” I ask.
“Do what?”
“The chili,” I say. “Why’d you make a new batch?”
The guy looks at me like I’ve grown a second head, and maybe I have. I’ve been overthinking enough since waking up this afternoon to have put two brains to work. That’s for sure.
“You said it’s best when the ingredients have time to get to know each other,” Ford tells me.
“I know, but…that still doesn’t explain why you made it.”
He tilts his head even more. “Is there a problem, June?”
I tug on the sleeves of my hoodie and fold my arms again, unsure what to say or how to make him see where I’m coming from, or why his decision to make and deliver chili for me is…I don’t even know. Strange? Unwarranted? Really freaking thoughtful?
“All I’m saying is, you didn’t have to,” I hedge.
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do, June.”
Exactly! I want to shout. The man’s proving my point for me!
“Then why’d you do it?” I demand. I don’t want to sound like a brat even when I’m desperate enough for answers that I’m willing to cross into that territory, but I can’t help myself.
I need to know. His reasoning. His logic.
What really happened last night without my sick-induced goggles?
“Why’d you make the chili then drop it off?
” I ask. “Why’d you take care of me and tuck me into bed?
Why’d you clean my apartment and…” And snuggle with me on the couch.
The last of my words stay unspoken, but he must be able to see them on my face because I swear his gaze drops to my mouth.
He’s done it a hundred times. Hit on me.
Complimented me. Teased me and flirted with me.
He does it to everyone. Like, literally.
Everyone. I don’t know, though. I don’t feel like he ever puts any actual effort into the people he dates.
And we aren’t even dating.
Yet, he still went through the effort of helping me last night. The question is…why? I want to know. Even if it makes me look weird or needy, when in reality, all I am is confused.
Right?
He bends closer. So close, his warm, chili-scented breath hits my cheeks, and the little flecks of yellow seem to make his green eyes even brighter.
My lips part, and I lift my chin an inch higher.
From the outside looking in, we probably look like we’re about to kiss.
And that’s the last thing I want, isn't it? But I refuse to back down now that we’ve come this far.
“If you don’t do anything you don’t want to do, then why did you help me?” I whisper.
His voice drops so it’s low enough for only me to hear it. “Glad you’re feeling better, June Bug.”
And then, just like that, he stands to his full height again, snapping me from whatever spell he’d cast moments ago. The sun kisses his light brown hair, making it almost blonde as he walks toward his date while leaving me high and dry in the process.
No answers. No justification. No anything.
I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting, but…
that’s it? All he has to offer is a confusing cacophony of nonsensical actions with absolutely no tangible motive or explanation whatsoever?
Fine. If that’s the way he wants to play it, by sweeping everything under the rug and pretending as if nothing happened and he doesn’t have a heart, let alone a caring bone in his body, then so be it.
I shake off my thoughts, turn on my heel, and head back to Bryan, who was clearly watching the entire interaction like a detective with a magnifying glass.
Lovely.
When I reach him, he asks, “You good?”
Am I good? No. I’m confused and put off and… I don’t even know what I am.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I lie.
Standing on my toes, I kiss Bryan in the middle of the crowded cook-off.
It’s nothing but a peck, and I’m not sure why I do it.
Why the need to kiss him is so overwhelming.
Maybe I do it to remind myself why I’m here in the first place.
Who I’m with. Who I’m choosing. Here I am, kissing Fireman Bryan, the man who’s nothing but a solid match for me on paper. Yet, all I feel is…empty.
Bryan smiles against my mouth, and his hand snakes around my lower back. “You, June Withers, are quite the catch.”
I glance down at the red and white fire department logo on his chest, unsure how to respond.
“Come on,” he urges. “Let’s test out a few more flavors of chili.”
Chili. Right.
Forcing a smile, I peek up at him and splay my fingers above his heart. “Lead the way.”