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“It’s refreshing, yes.”
I watched him lean back into his wheelchair as he threaded his fingers together. His attention was wholly on me and I found myself growing nervous. I wasn’t expecting something like this. I wasn’t expecting us to actually speak. To talk the way we were talking.
It was… nice.
“I was in practice after school one day and I was working on breaking my own record. I moved the bar up half an inch and kept trying all day to get over it. And when I finally did, I was so proud of myself. But in my want to get over the bar, I didn’t take into account that another half inch of bar meant another foot of falling. I overcorrected, missed the pad, and came down wrong on my heels.”
“Ouch.”
“Very. Shattered both of them. It ended my track and field days and took months to recover from. Three surgeries, multiple pins and screws. Months of physical therapy. And I still can’t walk in heels or anything like that.”
“Trust me. With legs like yours, you don’t need them,” he said.
“I have no idea if that’s a compliment or a completely inappropriate comment.”
“The look on your face says ‘inappropriate’, but the blush in your cheeks says ‘compliment’.”
I brought my hands up to my face and felt how red my skin was. I turned my body back towards my food and reached for my orange juice. I had to calm down. I was enjoying this dinner a little too much and that wasn’t the point. I could see Hayden grinning out of the corner of my eye, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
What was he doing?
Was he trying to make me uncomfortable so I wouldn’t make him come out again for food?
Because it wasn’t quite working if that was his plan.
“Setting matters of your legs aside, however, it means you can understand why I don’t want to come out,” he said.
“No, it doesn’t. I didn’t allow that wheelchair to stop me. There was a handicapped sports league in my area I used to fill my time after school. It helped me with my anger towards the situation.”
“So you were angry.”
“Yes
, but I didn’t let it swallow me,” I said.
“I’m not letting it swallow me.”
“Says the man who’d rather lock his door to the only person tolerating him instead of coming out and making decent conversation.”
“Tolerating? Is that what you’re doing?”
“Why would I be anything else?” I asked.
“Because this is not a dinner you cook for someone you tolerate.”
“Then what kind of dinner did I cook?”
Hayden leaned forward in his chair and brought his face closer to mine. He continued to scoot forward in his seat as I leaned heavily back into the breakfast nook. His blue eyes were captivating. I could see the storm raging behind them. His body heat was radiating against me and his grin was devious, and there was part of me that wanted to reach out for him. To cup his cheek and bring his pouty lower lip to mine.
I held my breath as I waited for his words.
“This is a dinner you cook for someone you enjoy.”
His voice was lower and his tone was gravelly. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. His eyes lowered to my heaving bosom, no doubt taking in how flushed my skin was. Then he lifted his head before he grabbed his plate and his drink.
“Where… are you going?” I asked.
He wheeled away from the table and started for the living room.
