I glare at him warily. I remember how often Chris liked to have sex. I don’t know how he’s been keeping himself satisfied for the past two months, but I know he’s bullshitting when he says he just wants to be here with me.
“What?” he says as I continue to glare at him. “I can go without sex. I don’t want to go without you, but I’ll do it. As fucking painful as it will be, I will wait for you, the same way I waited until you were eighteen.” I move to get off his lap and he grabs my waist to stop me. “Are you hungry? Let’s go to Angie’s.”
“Angie’s is far.”
“But you have all day.”
Chris and I used to go to Angie’s for Sunday brunch at least once a month until I went to UNC. It was our monthly meeting with the band: Chris, me, Jake, Rachel, Tristan, and whatever girl Tristan felt like bringing. It’s strange because most people think that Chris’s band fell apart when he decided to go solo last year, but the truth is that they began growing apart as soon as I went off to college and Chris had to spend more time with me in Chapel Hill. I was their Yoko Ono.
“Fine,” I say, then something overcomes me.
I don’t know if it’s guilt from not having sex with him or from being so instrumental in the breakup of the band, but I take his face in my hands and kiss him, slowly, as a deep sigh and longing builds inside me. Finally, I pull away and press my lips together as I attempt to catch my breath.
He kisses the corner of my lips then smiles with that signature gleam in his eyes. “Sorry, babe, I’m not in the mood.”
We arrive at Angie’s Restaurant just before ten and, to my surprise and horror, the waitress who seats us in our booth recognizes us.
“Chris,” she says, poking Chris’s arm before she turns to me. “And Claire.”
I don’t recognize her and judging by the puzzled look on Chris’s face he doesn’t recognize her either. Her cheeks are hollow and her brown hair hangs all the way down to her butt in a long ponytail. Nothing about her is familiar to me, but Chris quickly recovers his wits—or his memory—and gives her his crowd smile. Ugh. I have a love/hate relationship with his crowd smile.
“Priscilla,” he says, and her gray eyes light up. “Can you believe how long it’s been?”
She hands me my menu without taking her eyes off Chris. “Where the heck have you been? Oh, wait. I know where you’ve been. You’re a friggin’ rock star now! But you look exactly the same! Except that leg. What the heck happened there?”
Chris goes into a brief explanation of the motorcycle accident, carefully leaving out the fact that he was out riding his bike that day to try to forget how upset he was over Abigail and me. She asks if she can sign his cast before she finally takes our order.
He orders the usual Denver omelet then turns to me. “Do you want the usual?”
I don’t know if he really remembers what I used to get, so I decide to test him. “Sure.”
He turns to Priscilla and she waits with a curious expression as he thinks for a moment. “Belgian waffle with bacon and eggs over-medium.”
Priscilla shakes her head as she jots it down. “Too cute.”
Once Priscilla is gone, I glare at him across the table. “Do you always have to show off?”
“I’m a performer. What do you expect?”
“A little humility.”
“Hey, I’m humble. I don’t go around bare-chested, wearing fucking leather pants with my shirt hanging out my back pocket.”
“Because you know I’d make fun of you if you did that.”
“No. I only do it on Wednesdays.”
Hump day.
I ignore the jealous roar inside me as I imagine how many girls have been on this end of his charming little act.
“Are you okay?” he asks as Priscilla shows up with our coffee. He flashes her a tight smile and she quickly sets off.
“I’m fine.” Just getting a glimpse of what life with you would be like now that you’re God.
“You don’t look fine. I know what you need.”
I need to not be here. I should be in my dorm moping like I have been the last few Sundays since Adam broke up with me. Instead, I’m sitting across the table from the one person, other than myself, who I can actually hold responsible for breaking us up. What is wrong with me?
“Chris, no offense, but I’m beginning to think that even I don’t know what I need.”
His smile fades and he stares at my hands for a while before he reaches across the table and grabs my left hand. He rubs his thumb over my knuckles for a moment before he brings my hand to his lips and lays a soft kiss on my ring finger.