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The sudden change of topic catches me by surprise, and he raises an eyebrow as he repeats the question. “Eaten. Have you eaten anything today?”
Have I?
It takes me a few seconds to remember. The past couple days have been a whirlwind, as I tried to pay rent and realized that my account had been zeroed out, then went to my mom’s place to confront her, only to have to go back to my landlord and beg him for an extension. Of course the asshole said no, so I scraped together some boxes and started packing early this morning, skipping classes so I could get it done. I ate some leftovers over the sink last night, but other than that…
“No,” I whisper tiredly, shaking my head. “I’ll get something at home.”
Malice doesn’t respond. But a few blocks later, he flips his blinker on and turns into the parking lot of a little Mexican food place. When he pulls into a parking place and stops the car, I stare at him in surprise.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he grunts. “You need to eat, or you’re gonna pass out. Your face is white as a damn sheet.”
He throws open his car door and gets out, and I manage to rouse myself enough to do the same, following him into the restaurant. There’s a counter up front with a giant menu board above it, and Malice gestures to it. “What do you want?”
“Um…” I’m still reeling a little from the fact that he’s offering to buy me lunch, especially after getting back the money my mom took from me—or a big chunk of it, anyway. It feels weird, so I glance quickly at the menu before muttering, “A beef taco.”
He narrows his eyes at me, then turns to the round-faced woman behind the counter. “Three beef tacos and a chicken taco.” He glances back at me. “Do you eat fish?”
“Uh, yes.”
“And a fish taco,” he tells the woman, rattling off a few sides, drinks, and a vegetarian burrito before digging out his wallet to pay.
I watch in stunned silence as she puts in the order, telling him it’ll be ready in a few minutes. Malice stands like a statue beside me as we wait, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the kitchen in the back where they’re preparing our food.
When the woman at the front counter finally hands him a large plastic bag full of Styrofoam containers, I expect him to head back out to the car. But instead, he walks over to one of the rickety looking tables set against the front window, yanking out a chair and sinking into it as he sets the bag down. He starts digging out containers of food, and I tentatively take the seat opposite him.
Almost every single container gets placed in front of me, with the exception of the foil wrapped burrito, which he takes for himself.
“I…” I swallow, glancing from the food to him. “I just asked for a taco.”
He shoots me a look, his elbows resting on the table. He’s wearing a dark t-shirt that hugs his muscled arms, and a multitude of tattoos swoop and curl over his exposed skin. “Was that all you wanted?”
No.
My stomach is starting to grumble just from the spicy scent of the food. Now that some of the nerves twisting my stomach are starting to fade away, I’m realizing how hungry I am.
I don’t say that out loud, but Malice can clearly read it on my face—either that, or he hears my stomach, which lets out an audible gurgle.
“Eat.” He jerks his chin at the food.
Too hungry to resist any longer, I tear into the containers, polishing off two of the beef tacos so fast it’s like they never existed. I move on to the chicken one next, following that with some rice and beans, and I glance up to see Malice watching me, his gray eyes glittering. He’s only gotten through a few bites of his burrito, which makes me think he’s probably spent the last few minutes just watching me stuff my face.
A flush creeps up my cheeks, and I glance back down. I’m still a little hungry, but it’s starting to fade, so I pick up the soda he got me and take a long sip. When I look back up at him through my eyelashes, he’s still watching me.
“Do you not eat meat?” I ask, mostly just to fill the silence.
He shakes his head. “No. I’m a vegetarian.”
That surprises the hell out of me, to be honest. Everything about Malice reminds me so much of a predator that I can easily imagine him as a lion or something, stalking some poor antelope before devouring it whole. I always figured he was the kind of guy who ordered his steaks and hamburgers rare and dripping with blood.
It’s just a reminder that there’s so much I don’t know about this man, so many things I can’t predict about him.
“Oh,” I murmur lamely, not sure what else to say. “Have you always been a vegetarian?”
“No.” His one-word answer is curt, and at first, I don’t think he’ll say anything else. But then he adds, “A while ago, I had a lot of choices taken away from me. This is one choice I get to make for myself.”
His answer is cryptic, and I find myself wanting to know more, but I bite back the questions, focusing instead on the rest of my food. I don’t quite manage to finish it all, but I get pretty close by the time Malice finishes his burrito and jerks his chin at me.
