Resentment(61)
“Have you done it out of anger or frustration recently?” I ask, not expecting his previous answer at all.
“No, not recently.” He looks genuine. “I haven’t had a reason to. Are you hungry?”
“Very much so.”
“Good.” He leads me back past the park and toward another stretch of downtown.
As we cross the street, he presses his hand against the small of my back, and with that small intimate contact, my heart begins to race. I almost give in and break our rule about sexual innuendos, but I hold back.
Dean stops walking as we approach a street that’s lined with white food trucks. “I think we should try something here.”
He must notice my hesitation, because he rubs my back and whispers into my ear. “I come here at least once a week on my lunch break. They have the best food in the city.” He even answers the exact question on my mind. “Yes, I really trust getting my food from a truck.”
“Okay,” I say, following him over to the first truck that’s parked at the curb.
“What do you like best, chicken, beef or lamb?”
“Chicken or beef.”
“Because you’ve never had lamb?”
“Because everyone knows you’re not supposed to try new food when you’re hungry.”
“Then we’ll get lamb, but we’ll get chicken, too, just in case you hate it.”
I laugh as he orders for the both of us. I try a Cajun chicken taco, something I refuse to attempt to pronounce, and after much hesitation, a lamb gyro. I attempt to hide the fact that it tastes absolutely amazing, that I’m silently kicking myself for not trying it sooner, but I’m sure the fact that I ask him to order another one, is a dead giveaway.
After we devour a few more gyros (okay, five more) we stroll down the block a little farther and buy a couple of sodas from a vendor, and then he makes me sit on a park bench to rest. Although there are tons of people around us, it feels like it’s only the two of us.
“What’s on your mind, Mia?” he asks, looking into my eyes.
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying. You’re fidgeting, and you only do that when you’re thinking about something.”
“What if I’m itching?” I smile.
“Then you would’ve told me about it long before now and asked me to take you home. Tell me the truth. What are you thinking about?”
“I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“Curious about what?”
“What happened to your dad? Do the two of you still talk?”
He looks completely taken aback, but he doesn’t get angry. “When he found out I’d confirmed to go to Western Peak, he lost his shit. He put me out.”
“What?”
“Yeah, and he...” He stops, clearly affected by the memory. “He lost our house and had to move into an apartment, and he blamed me for it for a very long time, so I stopped talking to him for years. We spoke again for the first time this past Christmas ...” His voice trails off.
“I’m sorry.”
“I told you to stop apologizing for other people years ago.” He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Are you and your mom on better terms?”
“Barely. I’ve just learned to tolerate her more. That’s all.”
He nods, looking off into the distance, and the two of us sit like that for a while. We just let our minds drive us to different spaces.
“Are you ready to do something else?” he asks as more people crowd the park.
I say yes and he helps me up, leading me down a few more streets and into a place he considers his favorite bar. He takes me right to a booth that’s tucked in the back, and instead of letting me sit across from him, he pulls me onto his lap.
When the waitress walks up to our table, she doesn’t ask for our order. She simply sets down a tray of shots, and shoots us a grin before walking away.
Holding me still, Dean grabs one of the shot glasses and positions it against my lips. “I know you have no idea how to properly get buzzed, so I need you to trust me on this and let me show you.”
My cheeks redden as he slowly pours the cold liquor down my throat, as it burns all the way down.
He signals for the waitress and orders limes and lemons, and a few soft drinks, since I’m “a lightweight” and then he literally coaxes me through each shot.
After he tilts the last one against my mouth, his eyes hold my gaze. The way he’s looking at me now, sends a chill up my body. I can’t explain it, one look from him, and I lose my nerve and focus. It takes me back to the past, making me wish we ended up in a different present.
“You okay?” He eases me out of his lap and helps me to stand.