He nods, offering a trembling smirk. “Why ruin dinner, eh?”
“I don’t even know what to order.” I look over the menu.
“Order whatever you like,” he says. “I’m thinking about getting the steak.”
My belly rumbles as I turn to the burger section. I’ve hardly eaten all day, too distracted with work and thoughts of Triston, and now I really want to chow down. The gourmet burgers, in particular, make my mouth water, especially when I see they’re served with onion rings.
“Any ideas?” he asks.
“Uh, no, not really,” I mutter.
He tilts his head, staring inquisitively. It’s like he can see right through me, into me, piercing my excuses and my defenses, getting to the real stuff with ease.
“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” he says, “but don’t give me that nothing crap. I can tell something’s bothering you.”
I shrug. “I was thinking about getting the burger, that’s all.”
He narrows his eyes, as though trying to figure out the implications of what I’ve just said. “So get the burger.”
“But, well…” I sit back, waving a hand down at myself, even as I feel my cheeks turn crimson with shame.
“But what? But your hand?”
I look closely at him, trying to tell if he’s mocking me. Surely he can’t be missing the point this hard.
But he doesn’t look as though he’s joking.
“My weight, Triston. I’m talking about my weight.”
“Okay.” His eyes narrow. “So are you getting the burger or not?”
I laugh reflexively. Surely he has to be joking.
“I mean I should probably order something healthier.”
“If you want to order something healthy, order something healthy. If you want to order a burger, or two, or three goddamn burgers, then go ahead. It’s not an issue. My treat, remember.”
“You really don’t think I need to lose weight?” I ask meekly.
I know he thinks that. Everybody thinks that, has thought it ever since I was a kid. Maybe he’s just trying to be nice. Which is good, fine, but I don’t want him to lie to me.
I sigh. “You’re already holding something back. Don’t add lying on top of that,” I say exasperated, tired of him beating around the bush. I know he can see what I look like.
“You don’t need to lose weight,” he snaps, sitting forward. “Your figure is perfect. You’re curvy, gorgeous, sexy. I love your shape, Tamia. Don’t even talk about losing weight. You felt how crazy you make me last night. Your perfect voluptuous body did that.”
I reach across the table, driven by instinct, placing my hand atop his. “Okay, I’ll get the burger if it means that much to you.”
I smile softly, and he chuckles, placing his other hand atop mine, enveloping me in warmth from all angles. “I guess I got a bit carried away there, huh?”
“Just a little,” I giggle.
He gives my hand a squeeze. “I want you to know, you’re beautiful, Tamia. You don’t need to worry about your weight. If you want to eat healthy, fine. If you don’t, that’s fine too. But don’t you dare stress yourself out about it.”
His words send a strange feeling through me, infusing my heart, bolstering me so that I feel… What is it?
Confident, I realize.
Sitting under his towering form, when he’s looking at me like I’m the only woman who exists, I feel confident.
“Fine.” I go for a sassy head-toss, hoping I don’t look like a dork. “I’ll get a gourmet burger.”
He smirks. “Gourmet? Fancy.”
We draw back when the waiter approaches, give our orders, and then we’re left alone again.
In the back of my mind, a slideshow plays, repeating all the moments Alexis and I have shared over the past two weeks.
I think of the day out we had, when we rode the subway all over the city, snapping pictures in the parks, alleyways, malls, and stores. I think about when she broke down and cried, as I cradled her when she told me how thankful she was for what Lisa did.
And now I’m on a date with her dad.
I try to think about what Lisa would say, but her words are lost to me now. I’m on my own.
Triston’s face grows more severe. He knows what I’m thinking. It can’t be easy for him either.
But then something magical happens. We silently agree to push it all aside. It’s in the way we look at each other.
It makes me think crazy words, like love and marriage and fate and family, the way we talk without talking, the way we stare at each other like we’re each other's whole universe.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Triston
I grin as she takes a bite from her burger, juice running down her chin.
Reaching across, I dab at her chin with a napkin.
She giggles, placing the burger down. “Sorry. I don’t mean to gross you out.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me.”
I leave out the ever.