“About your love for waffles, I mean. How have you kept this from me for so long?”
“I think I told you once.” His voice sounded almost wistful as I searched the recesses of my mind for memories with him, looking for the one with the waffles.
It suddenly hit me.
“You did. Oh my gosh, you really did,” I said, remembering one rare afternoon when we had studied together for finals.
He’d mentioned waffles that his mom used to make and how this one place in town made them just like she had. He’d wanted to go right that second, but they weren’t open.
“Your mom,” I added, and he gave me a slight nod.
“Yeah. I’m not sure why I’ve held on to that memory so hard. It’s almost like she took every other one with her when she left.”
“You haven’t talked to her lately?” I asked, knowing that the relationship he had with his mom was strained, at best.
He had offered up a few details over the years, but anytime I started to dig in too deep, he’d cut me off and slam the door shut.
“Nah.” He tried to sound like he didn’t care, but I knew it was the opposite.
“You don’t have to do that.” I reached for his thigh and gave him a squeeze but didn’t leave my hand there.
“Do what?”
“Pretend like her leaving didn’t hurt you. Or keep those kinds of things to yourself. If we’re really going to give this a shot, we have to talk about the stuff that haunts us. Because those are the things we carry. They affect everything else,” I said like I was an expert on the subject.
“What haunts you?”
I said the first thing that popped into my mind even though it felt sort of small in comparison to his inner demons, “My no-alcohol rule.”
He visibly stiffened, his back straightening. I watched as his knuckles started to turn white as his grip on the wheel tightened.
“You never told me where that came from,” he said, trying to sound calm but I could tell that it was eating him up inside. Cole sensed that the rule had been born out of a bad situation, and he wasn’t wrong.
“I know.”
“Will you?” he asked as the truck slowed, and I looked up, noting the line out the door of a restaurant I’d never been to before.
“Not right now, but yes, I will,” I said, and he calmed.
“Okay. Have you been here before?” He pulled the truck to a stop and cut the engine.
I rolled my window up. “Never,” I admitted, wondering how the heck I’d missed this on my food radar the entire time I’d lived here.
“How is that even possible?” He looked at me like I’d grown two heads.
“I have no idea,” I said as I turned to reach for my door handle.
“Don’t move,” he directed.
I did as he’d asked, knowing that he wanted to open the door for me. I waited for him to reach my door and smiled when he did. Pulling it open, he extended his hand and helped me out. He placed his hand on my lower back, and I felt myself instinctively lean into it.
“I like this side of you.”
“What side? My backside?” he teased, and I shook my head.
“No. Your gentlemanly side,” I said with a smile. “It’s nice.”
“I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long.” He winked, and I wondered if he turned things into a joke whenever he was uncomfortable. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if that was one of Cole’s defense mechanisms.
We walked toward the waiting crowd of hungry eaters, and Cole excused himself to head inside and put our name in. I stood alone for only a few seconds before I heard the familiar sound of whispering. I was thankful I had my sunglasses on as I tried to stealthily find whoever was doing the talking. That was when I realized that there were a lot of students here, and it wasn’t just one girl staring at me but quite a few.
Cole reappeared at that moment and wrapped one arm around my waist. I pretended not to notice the phones pointed in our direction, most likely taking pictures to share online or text to friends.
“There are a lot of students here.” I wondered if he had known how full this place would be and how many people would see us together in public.
“I know,” he said matter-of-factly. “Does that make you nervous?”
“I’m not nervous,” I said. “Just surprised, I think.”
“Surprised by what?”
“I