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“You’re going to eat all six donuts?” he questions.
I stop the pastry two inches from my mouth and glare at him. “Would that disgust you or something?”
“No, I’m just wondering if I get one.”
I smile and wave at the box, telling him to help himself.
He picks up the plain glazed, and I’m not sure if he’s the no-frills type or just trying to save the special sprinkle ones for me, but either way, I kind of like it. We sit back and eat, but I can’t help stealing glances at him every once in a while.
His brown hair is light, and his eyes look blue, green, or hazel depending on what kind of light is flashing across them from the screen. He has a little stubble on his oval-shaped face, a sharp nose, and my gaze is drawn to the way his angular jaw flexes as he chews. There’s the faintest of lines around his eyes, so he might be more than thirty, but it could just be all his time working in the sun, too. He’s tall, strong, fit, and tan, and his eyes suddenly flash to the side as if he senses me staring. I turn my eyes forward again.
Dammit.
That’s okay, right? It’s normal to find other people attractive. It happens. I mean, Scarlett Johansson is attractive. That doesn’t mean I’m interested in her.
I take another nibble of my donut, my gaze darting to the side again, taking in his arms and the various tattoos. Black gears and bolts, like a robot skeleton, some tribal work that definitely says he was a 90’s kid, and I can just make out what I think is a pocket watch that looks like it’s trying to break free of his skin. It’s like a hodgepodge without any discerning theme, but it’s beautiful work. I wonder what the story is behind them.
I take another bite, the pink glaze and rainbow sprinkles sending electric shocks to the back of my jaw and making me crave the whole damn thing in my mouth at once.
“You know, I really kind of want abs,” I say, chewing, “but these are really good.”
He breaks into a laugh, looking at me and chuckling.
“What?”
“Nothing. You’re just…” He looks away as if searching for words. “You’re just kind of, like, interesting or…something?” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I mean. And then he blurts out, “Cute,” as if just remembering. “You’re cute, I mean.”
My stomach flips, and heat warms my cheeks like I’m in fifth grade again when it was such a compliment for a guy you like to tell you you’re cute. I know he means my personality and not how I look, but I kind of like it.
He finishes the donut and takes a sip of his soda. “So, what are you?” he asks. “Like twenty-three, twenty-four?”
“Sure, eventually.”
He breathes out a laugh.
“Nineteen,” I finally answer.
He takes a deep b
reath and sighs, something far off in his gaze.
“What?” I take the last bite and brush my hands together, slouching and leaning my head back on the chair.
“To be that young again,” he muses. “Seems like yesterday.”
Well, how old could he be? Nineteen couldn’t have been that long ago for him. Ten years? Maybe twelve?
“So, you’d do some things differently if you could go back?” I inquire.
He quirks a tight smile and looks down at me, his eyes serious. “Let me tell you something…. A little advice, okay?
I listen, looking up at him and my gaze locked with his.
“Hit the ground running,” he tells me.
Huh?
He must see the confusion on my face, because he goes on.
