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“French fries? How ghastly,” He said. “To name a food after the French.”
I laughed. God, he was cute when he was confused.
“So, aren’t you hungry?” I asked him.
“No, I’m not. I already ate.”
I didn’t question him further since I was so hungry. But I was positive he hadn’t eaten.
He watched me as I ate. His eyes studied my face and every movement. Normally a guy watching me would bother me. But Jonathon’s eyes weren’t looking at me like I was a piece of meat but rather that I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. I could see so much love in his eyes that it almost frightened me.
But Jonathon was so beautiful like a god. What would he want with someone like me? Someone average, when he could have any girl he wants. Why choose me? I’ve never stood out in a crowd, never wanted too. I have always blended in. So, why does Jonathon think I’m so special? There isn’t anything special about me. But for some reason when I’m with Jonathon it feels like the planets are revolving around us and only us. I wonder if he feels it too.
I ate all my food and wiped my mouth.
“Wow, you were hungry.” Jonathon said.
I giggled. “I feel like a pig.”
“You’ve barely eaten over the last three days and you’ve been under extreme stress. Before you got here you were under stress with your parents’ divorce, then being sent here, and now your entire mom’s drama. I don’t know how you’ve managed.” Jonathon hung his head.
I found it so touching that Jonathon worried about me. He’s the only person that seems to understand what I’ve been through and what I’m going through. Ever since the divorce I’ve been alone. Now I’ve found Jonathon and I feel like I’ve gotten my heart and soul back.
“Jonathon you are how I’ve managed. If I hadn’t met you I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
“Really?” said Jonathon.
“Yes. I feel so dependent on you and I know that isn’t good but I’ve been so alone and now I have you.” I said looking down embarrassed. Jonathon’s going to think I’m some needy, clingy, winy, little girl. Great. Let’s just stamp loser across my forehead and call it day.
“Thank you. I’ve been so worried that you don’t really need me.”
“I need you more than anything.” I said surprised that he thought I didn’t need him and surprised at my own gall.
“Good,” said Jonathon, “But don’t become to dependant on me I might not be able to be around all the time. Also, I might not be a good person.”
“Why?” I asked out of curiosity not out of neediness but more for the fact that he said he wasn’t a good person.
“Another time. Now is not the time for scary stories.”
“Scary stories?” I asked confused.
“Another time.” He repeated.
What was Jonathon hiding from me? Why couldn’t he just come out and say what he was trying to say? Does he think I’m not trustworthy? Why does it bother me so much?
“Ciao Luigi,” said Jonathon raising his right hand. I had a secure hold on his left. His hand felt cool and comforting in mine.
“Ciao, Jonathon,” Luigi pointed at me, “Beautiful girl, don’t let her get away.”
“I won’t,” said Jonathon. I blushed I have never been called beautiful before. Except by my family but they don’t count.
We walked to the mustang hand in hand. I enjoyed holding Jonathon’s hand. But it was a weird sensation. As if our hands had been molded together to fit perfectly with one another.
Jonathon held the passenger door open for me. I climbed in and he shut the door with a barely audible sound. As he walked around the car his short sleeve shirt road up and I noticed a tattoo on his chiseled lower stomach. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The shape didn’t make any sense. It was just a bunch of swirling lines. Yet the mysterious symbol was mesmerizing and beautiful. But it also symbolized how little we really know each other.
As Jonathon climbed in I said, “I didn’t know you have a tattoo.”
“Oh, that.”
