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And yet, my eyes have not quite gotten the memo, because I cannot seem to look away.
“What?” he says after swallowing his bite.
My gaze lands back on my plate, taking a huge bite of creamy pasta. I try to act like I have no idea what he is talking about, but the icy glare he sends my way makes me shiver.
Waiting until my mouth is not full of food, I answer, “You always eat the same thing.”
With a deliberate slowness to his movements, he picks up his water and takes a sip.
“And?” he says with his casual boredom I have now gotten used to navigating.
“Just curious,” I answer with a shrug, knowing he is more likely to continue the conversation the less interested I seem.
He lets a long drag of silence curl around us before saying anything else. “I don’t like surprises.” He takes another bite of his burger, now his turn to observe me.
I am aware he has not asked me a leading question but I fill the silence anyway.
“I have eaten too much of the same thing for far too long. Now I want to taste new foods as much as possible. How else am I supposed to find out what is my favorite, if I have not even experienced it?”
Bastian’s dark eyes roam over my face, expression blank but seemingly lost in thought.
“Is it this?” he says with a small jerk of his chin toward my plate.
I look down at the now-congealed pasta in front of me and laugh. “No, definitely not this.”
He wipes his mouth with a napkin and stands up.
“Noted,” he replies before walking up to the counter and settling our bill.
* * *
It is early evening.The sun is dipping low behind the desert landscape when the car suddenly starts sputtering and I barely have time to pull over on the side of the road before it stutters to a stop.
I look over toward Bastian, wide-eyed and concerned.
“What the heck just happened?” I manage to say through the worry clogging up my throat.
He eyes me suspiciously. “Didn’t you just fill the tank?”
“Yes…”
“Pop the hood,” he orders while opening the car door.
I give him a dead stare, my mind completely blank. Not bothering to explain further, he leans over. While he finds the necessary button, his shoulder grazes my chest and my breath catches in my throat at the sensation and proximity. Then he is out of the car and I let out a shaky exhale. Eventually, I climb out myself, needing some fresh air on my heated skin, as well as being too anxious to sit alone and wait.
I stand near and watch, but I have no clue what he is even trying to do. After a few minutes of Bastian tinkering at the engine, he finally closes the hood and wipes his hands on his jeans.
“We’re going to have to walk to the nearest gas station, we haven’t had proper phone service for miles.”
I gape at him. “But we do not even know how far that is.”
“Better start walking then,” he sighs while reaching for his backpack and then the flashlight in the glove box.
“But what is wrong with the car?”
“Not sure.”
“We are just—just gonna leave all our things here?”
