Chapter 11 The Afterglow
THE AFTERGLOW
MAGGIE
I wasn’t sure if breakfast at The Comfy Cushion counted as a date, but I’d like to say that it did.
A real one, not like the pathetic parking lot “hangouts” and random bonfires I’d gone to with boys in high school.
All I knew is that I didn’t want it to end.
The only reason I needed to go back to Marla’s was to go through the motions of my ritual.
I could barely tolerate eating anything this morning after all the wasted calories last night, but I had concocted the pancake/ice cream creation after I realized how much easier it was to purge my stomach with ice cream.
By the time it reached your stomach, the warmth of the human body turned it back to a liquid, and it hurt less to come back up.
I added the ridiculous pancakes so that I could call it a breakfast food.
It killed me every time Celeste described me as a sugar-ridden junkie.
In actuality, I hated the guilt that came with eating anything sugary or sweet.
Guilt could cripple you just as badly as a poor diet.
And when you obsess over calorie deficits and macronutrients, guilt becomes a part of the routine.
I knew what I was doing was wrong enough that I didn’t feel comfortable telling my best friend about what I did each day, but I didn’t want to stop either.
I settled for trying to swirl the food around on my plate. Whenever I took a bite, I tried to make them small and dainty, focusing more on the vanilla ice cream so that I knew I had an easier shot at getting it back up.
Zeke, though, seemed to notice. Every time I lifted my fork, I caught his furtive glance to my face, followed by an infinitesimal frown whenever I didn’t raise the fork to my mouth. After a few moments of his scrutiny, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“What is it?” I snapped.
Rudeness was so uncalled for, especially when Zeke had already shown me nothing but patience and kindness, but I hated the way he watched me. I was not that interesting.
“You’ve only had six bites of food,” he replied evenly. Like my frustration didn’t faze him. “Do you still feel sick?”
Why was he counting how many bites of food I ate? Did he obsess over calories and macros, too?
Still, he gave me an out, and I would be a fool not to take it.
“Yeah. I thought I was ready to eat, but the food isn’t sitting well in my stomach. I think I’m done.”
A look of concern crossed his face. “Of course. How can I help make it better?”
It was such a simple request. Something polite that anyone would say upon hearing another person didn’t feel well.
Yet when Zeke said it to me, it sounded authentic, like he genuinely wanted an exact list of all the ways in which he could make me feel better.
His attentiveness wasn’t something I was used to, and I caught myself on the same loop of wondering if I misread the signs.
Did Zeke like me or not? Guys weren’t usually this polite and helpful in River’s Run.
“Nothing. I think I’m just done eating this for now,” I replied.
“Okay. Let me get the check from Celeste and I can take you wherever you’d like to go.”
I noticed that he didn’t say he would take me home. My heart leapt at the possibility of it being an intentional word choice because Zeke didn’t want our time together to end any more than I did.
“Who is Marla? Is that your not-mother?” Zeke looked at me so curiously that I laughed.
“Um, it’s kind of hard to explain. Marla used to work here at The Comfy Cushion with Celeste and now she’s opening her own bakery in the shop underneath her apartment building. She’s letting me stay with her in exchange for helping to get the shop set up.”
“I’m happy to help, too,” Zeke offered. “I know how to do some things.”
God, he was so sweet! My heart wouldn’t be able to crush on a man properly after this.
“You really don’t have to do that,” I insisted. “But it’s real kind of you to offer. Besides, I have nothing but time on my hands right now, so I should be able to get a lot of the work done.”
He frowned. “You don’t work?”
I grinned, trying not to sound too boastful when I said, “Actually, I just graduated with my cosmetology license. I’m going to try and find work at a salon now.”
Zeke nodded and turned back to his food. “Oh. That makes sense.”
While I knew cosmetology wasn’t exactly brain surgery, I was still disappointed that my chosen profession didn’t impress him. “What makes sense?” I ground out through clenched teeth.
“If you’re a cosmetologist, I understand why you made yourself look like that last night and like this right now.” He continued to eat his breakfast as if he didn’t care how much that statement just hurt.
“Wow.” I tried to keep my voice level so that I didn’t disturb all of Celeste’s customers. “Why don’t you use a knife next time? You’ll kill me faster!”
In a huff, I abruptly sprung up from the breakfast bar and stomped out of the restaurant. The door might’ve slammed a bit behind me, but I would apologize to Celeste for that later. For right now, I just needed to get someplace where I could nurse my tears in private.
Did I really look that ugly now? Zeke brought me makeup this morning, which I thought was born out of kindness, but what if he meant it as an intentional jab?
Like I needed makeup in order to be seen with him.
Was I really that ugly? He was far more attractive than any guy I’d seen in River’s Run. Maybe that made him out of my league.
Even Quasimodo wouldn’t touch you, the critical voice in my head reminded me.
A gentle hand circled my elbow, pulling me to a stop.
I hadn’t even realized where I was going, and somehow wound up in the alleyway behind all the businesses along Main Street.
Sniffling, I turned around slowly, keeping my head down so I didn’t have to look Zeke in the eye. The truth would hurt too much.
“Trouble, you’re gonna have to help me with this one because I don’t understand how I upset you. I didn’t mean anything bad.”
Even Zeke’s shoes were perfect, a pristinely white pair of sneakers.
Traitorous tears continued to run down my cheeks. Every time I cried in front of Diana, her criticism increased tenfold. Sometimes I almost suspected my tears made her feel powerful, but I couldn’t believe that hurting me was a deliberate action. Crying now in front of Zeke felt even worse.
“Then what did you mean?” I whispered.
He squatted down to try and catch my eye. “You’re the only girl I’ve met who knows how to use makeup. I just logically concluded you would be interested in doing hair, too.”
Quietly wiping my nose on the back of my hand, I scoffed. “You must not know many women.”
Zeke grinned. “Nope. And you’re the only one I want to know, so you’re all that matters.”
You’re all that matters.
It was hard to keep the smile off my face at hearing those words. I might’ve been glowing from the inside out.
“I find that kinda hard to believe,” I admitted.
A handsome soldier like Zeke wouldn’t have any trouble finding a girlfriend, or even just someone to go home with.
Although none of his behavior so far indicated he was that kind of person, I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that he struggled to pick up women.
Certainly a smile like his would simply make them all line up at his door.
“Guess there’s a lot for you to learn about me.” He shrugged, nonplussed at the idea. “Maybe we should spend the day together and rectify that.”
The glowing thing was definitely happening now. There was no way for me to misread an invitation like that. Guys didn’t ask to spend time with you if they weren’t interested.
“Oh yeah? What d’you have in mind?” I asked coyly.
Zeke paused for a moment, staring off into the distance as he considered it. “I’ve never been to the ocean. Apparently, Tybee Island is within driving distance. Wanna go?” He held out his hand, just like last night when he saved me from the panic attack Spencer and his gang of misfits instigated.
I liked that he always made it sound like an invitation, not an expectation. I had the freedom to choose either way.
There was zero hesitation on my part as I slipped my hand into his. “Count me in.”