Until I didn’t. I was focused on his light-brown eyes, the way there was a darker-brown ring around his pupils and another one surrounding his iris. How had I never noticed that before?
He spoke, and it startled me because I was so caught up in staring at him. “I love your eyes. The way the color seems to swirl between green and brown, depending on how the light hits it.”
Why did this make me uncomfortable? Him seeing me this way? I pitched forward slightly so that my hair would fall like a curtain around the sides of my face. “They’re just eyeballs. Almost everybody has them.”
“It’s not just your eyes. Do you know how beautiful you are?” he asked, reaching up to lift my chin, and then tucked my hair behind my ears.
I accepted myself, flaws and all, and considered myself pretty average, but for him to call me beautiful? That did something to me. Some kind of exhilarating free fall was happening in my gut. Like he’d somehow infused me with some of his confidence and strength. I believed him, that he thought I was beautiful. His words shifted something inside me, and I found myself saying, “I want you to kiss me.”
There was only a slight glimmer of fear, so faint I almost didn’t feel it. There was more anticipation than anything else. I knew what would happen after, but I was willing to risk it.
“I was planning on it.”
He wasn’t understanding what I was saying. I put my hand on top of his. “No. I mean, I want you to kiss me.”
I saw the moment when comprehension set in. “Now?” he asked.
“No, not now.”
“In the van?”
“We can’t kiss there,” I said.
“Why not? A lot of kissing happens in cars. Are you worried people will see us?”
“Maybe.”
“And that they’ll judge you?” he asked, and it was a bit annoying how perceptive he was and how he seemed to understand things about my psyche that I hadn’t even considered. “No one’s going to judge you or laugh at you. If anyone does notice, they’ll just be jealous that you’re kissing me.”
He was teasing, and it was a bit on the egotistical side, but also quite possibly true. However, I also didn’t want to end up on a magazine cover with him. Because even though he thought himself safe here, I’d seen enough paparazzi photos to know that they sometimes lurked and got personal moments on film.
The server arrived then with our food, and it was enough to completely cover our table.
I picked up my burger and took a bite and couldn’t help but let out a little moan of appreciation. This was amazing.
Noah asked, “So was I right or were you wrong?”
“Okay, yes to both, and I am definitely eating my words, because this is worthy of being offered as a sacrifice to the old gods. But good doesn’t necessarily equate to healthy.” I waved my hand at the stuff he’d ordered.
“If I’m not eating right, at least I’m eating a lot,” he quipped back. “I don’t see any vegetables on your plate.”
I pointed at my ranch sauce.
“Ranch dressing is not a vegetable.”
“I eat it with vegetables, so it’s basically the same thing. Your onion rings aren’t vegetables, either. I think the healthy parts are negated after you dip them in batter.”
I was halfway through my cheeseburger when I realized he hadn’t eaten anything and was looking around for our server.
“What are you doing? You’re the one who said this place was amazing.”
The server came over, and Noah said, “Can you box all of this up and bring us the check?”
“What?” I laughed.
“We have plans,” he said with a wolfish grin. “I wanted you to have a chance to eat it hot, and you did, so now we can go.”
I wanted to ask him if he was being serious, but it was plain that he was. The server brought over a mountain of boxes and two bags while I ate a bunch of my fries and put the rest of my burger into a box. I didn’t take the fries, because they were never good once they were cold. Noah was busy shoving boxes into bags until everything was packed up.
He stood up, throwing several (American) hundred-dollar bills on the table, while I marveled at how well this server was about to get tipped. He grabbed the bags with one hand and mine with the other and said, “Let’s go.”