“Mmm. Okay, you can make some seriously good bacon.” She shoves the rest in her mouth, then smashes her sandwich back together.
“Glad you like it.” I smile before I say anything else.Mybaconis currently suffering from the world’s longest hard-on at the moment and dying to get some of her attention. Any other words out of my mouth would only be some pathetic one-liner confirming that. Grabbing my fork, I stab at a marinated olive and focus on eating. Food, sunset, anything to focus on rather than the vixen moaning as she takes another bite with closed eyes.
“Fuck it,” Brendan whispers, putting his plate down and leaning up.
Grabbing his arm, I pull him back down. I shake my head and take another bite. Not yet. And not if she’s not one hundred percent in. I feel like a broken record inside my head.
Pulling her sandwich apart for a second time, Asra picks up a thick slice of tomato and holds it up, examining the red flesh. “Okay, how do your tomatoes taste so good?”
I laugh. “It’s from the farmer’s market. Fresh local ones always taste better than the overwatered greenhouse ones from big stores.” And it’s an organic, heirloom variety, flavor over mass production. Luckily, I had a chance to stop there on Wednesday afternoon before Asra’s attack consumed all of our time this weekend.
“That makes sense.” She nods her head and smiles, although it doesn’t light up her face and fades as quickly as it appeared. Taking a bite of the thick slice, she puts it back on her sandwich and glances out at the water.
Her unspoken words hang in the air between us. The farmer’s market. A place I can go because I don’t have a problem being out in the sunshine in the middle of the afternoon.
“You know, it’s open until six every Wednesday. I would love to go with you one evening. I used to go to them all the time in Seattle. It’s where I’d buy most of our food.” I’m rambling. I know I am, but I can’t seem to stop. She came hiking with us at five-thirty today without any problems so far. I’m sure she could make it to the market before they closed.
Nodding, she takes another bite, still looking off in the distance.
It’s not a yes, but it’s not a no.
After finishing her sandwich, Asra devours two entire slices of the lime pie.
Brendan watches, his eyebrows drawn high as she scrapes the plate with her fork, then licks every last crumb off of it.
“Were you hungry?”
“What?” She cocks an eyebrow at him. “It's good.”
Again, that little boy in me puffs up his chest. I may not have baked the pie, but I did buy it. I make a mental note to show her the bake shop I bought it from. I love all the little mom and pop places around here. It may be touristy, but at least it’s local. Maybe if this goes well, I can plan that as another date.
Beside me, Brendan laughs, shaking his head. “At least you’re not one of those girls that buys into all those fad diets.”
“I am dieting.” Her tone is completely serious as she sets the plate down and grabs a strawberry from the glass container between us.
“And what? Today’s a cheat day?”
“Nope,” she plops another piece of fruit in her mouth, “high carb diet. It um . . . The glucose decreases porphyrin biosynthesis in the liver. Basically, it helps prevent attacks and can lessen the severity when I have one.”
“Sugar, got it,” I chime in, making yet another mental note to figure out what her favorite candy is and always carry some.
“That’s got to be the easiest diet in the world.”
“Yep, it’s much better than the autoimmune paleo diet I was on back when they thought I had lupus.”
I shake my head, I don’t know how she does it. Two days ago she was half comatose, puking her guts out. And now she’s talking about it like it’s nothing. If that last attack was less severe because of her diet, I don’t want to know what a bad one looks like.
As the sun hovers near the water’s edge, we finish eating, then finally pack the empty containers back up.
“Thank you,” Asra states, folding the blanket and handing it to me.
“The night’s not over yet,” Brendan smiles.
Her eyes dart between us both. I shove the blanket in my bag along with her hat and glasses since it’s dark enough out she doesn’t need them anymore, and sigh. It wasn’t a certainty. And thus far, I’m even more confused as to where we stand with her and pretty sure it’s only as friends, if that.
“You have more planned?” Looking over her shoulder at the forest, she swallows. “You’re not thinking about hiking in the dark are you?”
“Nope,” Brendan loops his arm over her shoulders, “can’t leave my truck parked here after dark. But, if you want, there’s a campsite close to here. We kind of already reserved a spot. We can build a fire and make s’mores?”