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Colin and Samson's eyes find the tables before they face each other daringly. In a swift motion, they rush the tables, racing each other to the seats before me. I follow them, attempting to drop Lake's hand, when he tightens his hold on my fingers. With our arms stretched between us, I arch my brow, looking back at him as his lips pull into that sexy half-grin again. His mischievous eyes warm me entirely, melting all the snow off my mountain into a puddle at my feet before he finally releases his hold.
Why my stomach is a mess of drunk butterflies is beyond me. I need to rein this in. To calm down. To not get these stupid expectations up. He's simply being a nice guy to a girl whose life is in complete disarray.
I throw a quick fist to my abdomen, telling those hos to sober up.
30
Lake
She'snervousasallhell.
Twisting that little white napkin in her hand, strangling it with her sweaty little palms. Poor thing is defenseless against her crippling anxiety.
I watch as she keeps her eyes on him as he eats, barely touching her own food. I bought everything on that damn menu. There's no way she can't like something. Variety is everywhere.
Colin and Samson are talking animatedly with me about some really neat racing event that the Special Olympics is hosting early next year while Dylan chews on her bottom lip, pretending to listen.
That poor, soft thing needs some sweet attention and aftercare from all its abuse.
Her mind is elsewhere. That much is clear. Maybe she's worried about what I think about him. Worried I'll judge. Maybe she's afraid I'd think differently of her.
She's right to think that, because I do. I can't sit here, knowing that the death of her parents had abandoned her, leaving her alone to care for herself and her brother, and not see her differently already. She just became the most interesting person to me. One of the most respectable. Most admirable.
I'm completely blown away. From the moment I first met her, seeing her in those dingy sweats, the bags under her eyes, the McDonald's in her car...it's all coming together, and dammit if I wasn’t so completely wrong about her. She was right to come off like a bitch. The world has pitted itself against her, and she fights back every day. For him.
But what I want to know is why. Why did she hide him from me? Why did she hide this whole side of her life?
April approaches the table, combing a hand through her salt and peppered hair before smiling down at us.
“Hey! Sorry to interrupt.” She turns to look at me. “They're ready for you at the booth.”
Dylan’s spine straightens, and her eyes widen slightly.
“Sorry guys,” I say to Colin and Samson, tapping my hand on the hard plastic table before us. “Duty calls at the signature booth.”
“Thanks again for the food,” Dylan rushes, her nervous hands running along her leggings as I stand.
“Yeah, thanks Lake!” Samson adds with a mouthful of hotdog, making me grin.
“Colin, say thank you,” she scolds softly.
“Yes. Thank you. Thank you, Lake. Yes. Thank you for the food,” Colin says as he rocks lightly in his chair, still staring at his half-eaten pretzel.
They’re both autistic, but it’s clear Colin struggles more than Samson, and I wonder how hard that's been on Dylan. The bruises, the urgent calls, the time off work, the need to ensure he's taking care of himself. It's a lot for anyone to deal with, especially a girl who put herself through school to become a physiotherapist. I can't even begin to imagine what they've been through together.
I stand, turning back to April to let her know I'm on my way before leaning over Dylan’s back. My palms surround her on the table and I lean down to ask, “Are you guys sticking around for a while?”
Her throat bobs at the closeness, and I catch onto it right away. If she thought this was enough time for us to hang out, she was dead wrong. I need more.
Checking the time on her phone, she sucks in a breath. “Um, actually, we kind of have to head out soon. I still need to drop Samson off a town over.”
She finds the strength to turn and actually face me. Our noses are close enough to touch if we move the wrong way. I gaze at those lips up close again, remembering the feel of them grazing along my neck. Suddenly, I'm the flushed one, forgetting my words.
“Wh-what, um...will you be home later?” I flinch, stuttering out the words.
“Yeah,” she answers cautiously, her eyes darting to Colin and back. “We'll be home.”
I don't miss her placement of the wordwe'llto insinuate she won't be alone, but with her brother. I mean, I figured as much.
