Chapter 8 #2
He opens the door, waving me ahead of him, and I step into the fast-food place.
The seating options are sparse, and despite the late hour, there are plenty of people lined up at the counter as workers buzz around behind it, stuffing burgers and fries into bags and making shakes.
My mouth instantly waters as we get in line.
The people ahead of us rattle off their orders, the line moving so quickly I barely have time to look at the board before we’re next.
“Want me to order for you?” Gavin asks, as if he can sense my panic.
I used to hate it when Neal would do that.
He’d always just assume what I wanted, never bothering to ask my opinion on the matter, and I’d rarely end up with something I actually enjoyed.
But I’m not as annoyed by it when Gavin offers.
If anything, I’m relieved. It’s been a long day, and I don’t feel like making decisions right now.
“Please.”
“Any requests?”
“Surprise me,” I say, my stomach growling at the smell of food.
He nods, then steps up to the counter. “Can I get two Deluxe, two Special, two Cheese, two fries, four tartar, and vanilla and chocolate shakes, please?”
The worker’s fingers fly over the screen as they punch it all in, and I’m amazed they could even understand everything Gavin just rattled off. I certainly didn’t. I’m still too stunned by the whole deal to notice him handing them a black credit card.
“What are you doing? I can pay for my own dinner,” I protest, reaching into my purse for the cash I was handed before I left the bar.
“I know.”
“Then let me pay.” I hand him a wad of bills, unsure what the total is but knowing this should cover it.
He looks down at the money like he’s offended, then turns his hazel gaze back to mine. “I said I know you can pay for your own dinner, not that I’m going to let you.”
He turns back to the worker, who hands him his receipt, then spins to grab our food. Everything moves so quickly, and before I know it, we’re given our giant bag of burgers and fries and our two shakes. Gavin juggles it all, refusing to let me help. I’m as frustrated as I am endeared by it.
He points to two unoccupied chairs across the room. “Is over there okay?”
“Sounds good,” I mumble. I don’t care where we sit. I just want food. For the second time tonight, my stomach lets out a loud grumble as we settle into the chairs.
Gavin’s brows inch together. “Do they not feed you at the bar?”
He seems concerned by this. Mildly annoyed even. I have a brief vision of Gavin storming into Top Shelf, demanding to speak to a manager, and giving them a stern talking-to about lunch breaks and how I need to be properly fed during my shift.
I shake the thought away. “They feed me. I just had a salad today, and that was a lot of hours ago. Guess I learned I’m going to need a little more sustenance if I’m going to be on my feet for so long.”
He nods like he understands. “I had to learn that with hockey, too. I ate my poor parents out of house and home when I was a teenager. It was like no matter what I had to eat, I was still starving every night before bed. Didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t getting enough protein throughout the day. Now I make sure that’s not a problem.”
“Hence the five cheeseburgers?”
He chuckles lightly. “That and because even though it’s just a basic burger that can be slapped together anywhere and absolutely nothing to write home to your family about, it’s still a damn good burger.”
“Hmm. I’ll be the judge of that. Burger me.”
He smiles as he pulls the food from the bag, setting it between us on the countertop. He holds up the two shakes next. “Vanilla or chocolate? You seem like a chocolate person to me.”
“What if I said strawberry?”
Instantly, his chair is scraping across the tile, and it takes me all of two seconds to realize what’s happening.
I grab his arm, stopping him. “No, stop. I wasn’t being serious.”
“Are you sure? Because I’ll go get you strawberry if that’s what you want.”
The sincerity in his eyes is disarming, and I have no doubt if I said I wanted strawberry, he would go up there and get me one without a moment of hesitation. Neal would never. He would make me feel like crap for wanting the things I did.
It’s weird. I never realized our relationship was like that until I had time to reflect on it. I think I was so in love and so invested in what we had that I had blinders on to all the things that should’ve been red flags.
“Thank you, but I’m perfectly fine with chocolate,” I say as Gavin settles back into his seat.
“Perfectly fine with or that’s what you want? Because those are two totally different things.”
He’s right. Those are two totally different things, and I love that he recognizes that.
“Chocolate is what I want. I promise.”
He nods, accepting my answer, then points at the three different kinds of burgers he got, explaining the difference in each one. I settle on the cheeseburger, unwrap it, and dig in, acutely aware of Gavin watching me the whole time.
“Well?” he asks after I take my first bite.
“You’re right,” I say, dabbing at my lips with the napkin clutched in my other hand. “This burger is somehow the most basic thing I’ve ever had and also quite possibly one of the most delicious. Or maybe I’m just really hungry. I can’t tell.”
“It’s always a little bit of both. It’s witchcraft. Or science. I can’t really determine which. I just know I come here way more often than the team dietitian appreciates. But that can be our little secret.”
He winks at me, and dammit if that small gesture doesn’t hit right between my legs. So do his words. Our little secret. This isn’t the only secret we share, and the reality of that settles over us as we continue eating our burgers and fries in silence.
Awkward silence.
I hate it. I hate that once upon a time it was so easy with him, and now everything is so strained.
It’s my fault, though. I was the one who ran, and in a way, I enforced a no-contact rule by not even giving him a chance to try to keep in touch.
This awkwardness is all my doing, and I don’t know how to fix it.
“So,” Gavin starts after consuming three burgers and half his fries. “What brings you to Seattle?”
I inhale steadily, clutching my chocolate shake tighter as if I’m holding on to it for emotional support. In this moment, I just might be.
“My ex-husband is having a baby with the woman he cheated on me with.”
His eyes widen in shock, a bit of vanilla milkshake sputtering from the corner of his lips. He drags the back of his hand across his mouth. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t…”
“Expect that?” I laugh, but there’s no humor behind it. “Yeah, me either. But whatever, you know? I mean, he is my ex -husband. I no longer have any claim over him. He can do what he wants. He can?—”
“Stop, stop, stop.” Gavin waves his hand. “He was your husband. At one point, he made vows to you and broke them. Now, someone else is getting the life you were promised. It’s okay to be mad. It’s okay to grieve what you lost, Nessa.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I will myself not to cry in front of him again. I need to be stronger than that, even if his words are something I needed to hear far more than I realized.
“Thank you.” I clear my throat, blinking back the tears. I sit up straighter. “Anyway, maybe that’s why I don’t seem as cheerful as you’d imagine.”
“Of course not. How can you be? Nobody would be happy about this.”
“What about you? Are you happy?”
His mouth opens, then snaps just as quickly. “On paper, yeah. Outside of that? I’m not so sure. A lot is hanging on this season, and I’m not exactly sure I’m prepared for it. Then, of course, there’s that little issue with…”
“Us,” I finish for him.
He swallows roughly. “Yeah. That.” He runs his hand over his jaw, scratching at the hair I know feels good between my thighs. I squeeze them together at the reminder. “Look?—”
“Let’s just forget about it,” I rush out, cutting him off.
His dark brows turn inward, lips pinching together tightly. He almost looks mad, perhaps even a little offended. But just as quickly as the look appears, it passes.
“I mean, besides, what are we going to do about it now? It happened so long ago, and it’s not like we knew about our mutual friend .”
His lips pull into a grin. “I’d love to hear Hutch’s reaction to you calling him your friend.”
“He’d probably deny it, then Auden would say something wise, and he’d apologize.
Rinse and repeat of the last week. Anyway, the point is…
Well, what is the point? I just moved across the country for a fresh start, and you just said you need to focus on the season.
It’s not like we’re trying to jump into something or reignite whatever spark we had that night.
It happened, and now we move on like adults, right? ”
He nods a few times, considering. “Right,” he agrees, extending his hand between us. “Friends?”
“Friends,” I repeat, slipping my palm against his.
When I do, there’s something there. A flicker. A burst of lightning. Something I can’t quite describe. It doesn’t go away, especially when he slides his thumb back and forth gently, caressing my skin, almost like he’s trying to imprint its feel into his mind.
It certainly doesn’t feel like we’re just friends…and I’m not too sure I want it to.