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“Fine,” I say and shake out my hair. “I could eat too, if I’m honest.”
He smiles a very soft smile, takes my hand and leads me to the restaurant. We order at the counter then take our seats outside on the wooden benches overlooking the forest below us and the rolling hills in the distance. The sun is starting to make its descent towards the horizon. We still have hours of daylight left, but I’m already wishing we had more.
“I’m sorry I missed your text this morning,” I say.
He shakes his head. “No worries. I had something to take care of anyway.”
“Does that mean I have you for the rest of the day?” I just blurted that out. I love how I can do that with him. Even the failed kissing session is a non-issue between us. I think it’s because we understand each other on a whole different level. The soul level.
A shadow falls over his face as he shakes his head. “Afraid not. I might even have to go away for a few days.”
“To a battle?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, something like that.”
It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t either.
His face visibly brightens as he watches the waitress approach with our order. He digs right into his burger as soon as she sets it down in front of him.
I’m suddenly not very hungry anymore and I don’t know if it’s the threat of losing him in battle or the fact that I might not see him for a couple of days. It’s definitely one of those two things that are to blame for my suddenly very sour mood. Or maybe both combined. Funny how just a few short weeks ago—if that long—I was certain we’d never be anything to each other. And now we’re still not—not really, anyway—but I’m already dreading time apart from him.
“Eat,” he says in between bites.
“This talk of battle… I’m not very hungry anymore,” I say. “How can you eat?”
He shrugs and grins from behind the huge burger in his hands. “Eating’s not optional, no matter what else you got going on. And when you live from one day to the next like I’ve been, nothing’s hard.”
I pick up a fry, fully intending to bring it to my mouth. But I’m even less hungry than I was a minute ago, so I toss it back down on my plate.
“Can you teach me how to do that too?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes at me, looking confused. “Teach you what?”
“To live from day to day and not care about what was and what will be.”
His eyes look sad and lost for a second, before he grins and takes my hand. “Maybe we can teach that to each other. Because so far, the best solution I’ve found is just to ignore it. You know, fake it ’til you make it.”
I like the touch of his hand, I like how just his soft touch makes me feel stronger. It makes me certain we can teach each other many things.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say. “And fake it ’til you make it is as good a piece of advice as any I’ve heard.”
He lets go of my hand and I wish he hadn’t. But my appetite’s back and I finally pick up my chicken sandwich and start eating too. And looking into his eyes is almost as good as touching him. Why didn’t I see that before? Because I was living inside my own head, firmly locked in there. Well, no more.
“So, what now? More shooting practice?” I ask once we’re done eating and he’s just idly picking at my fries which I couldn’t finish. “Or are you going to show me how to free myself from a headlock?”
He cringes, looks into the distance at the sky and then at his watch.
“I should get back,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
“And where’s back? Your clubhouse?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I’ve been staying at some other place lately. Doing this thing…”
He lets his voice trail off, but the inflection of his voice tells me it’s not a thing he’s excited about.
“So take me with you,” I say.
His eyes widen, making him look so horrified I very nearly giggled.
