Sparks - Wendy Higgins Page 0,84
mine so I called him to confront him.”
My eyes widened, trying to imagine it. “That sucks.”
“I asked, ‘Did you fuck Jacquie?’ and he was all, ‘I’m sorry, bro, I didn’t mean for it to happen.’” He shrugged as I stared at him and he went on. “I’m not looking for any fights. I mostly just want people to own up to what they did.”
“I can understand that. I admire how you’re handling things.”
He crossed his arms and peered around the restaurant, his eyes glazing over with thought.
“It hurts,” he said. My heart squeezed and all I could do was nod. Heartache was the worst kind of pain. “But I’ll be fine.” And just like that his clouded eyes cleared and I saw his strength. “You’ve lost more weight, haven’t you?” Well, that was an abrupt change of convo.
I made an exasperated sound. “Not this again. Do I look that horrible?”
“You don’t look horrible at all. I just want you to be healthy.”
I wiggled a little in my seat. I’d lost fourteen pounds, and actually, it was too much for me. I could see the bones in my chest and my booty was feeling wimpy. As in, not filling out my jeans the way I liked.
“I’ll gain it back,” I grumbled.
He made a sound and I glared. Silas shook his head. “It’s not about the weight. It’s the reason behind it.” He tapped his fingers, looking away as if he were searching for the exact right words. “I just want you to love yourself.”
Fuck, he was calling me out hardcore. Everything inside of me froze up. I stirred my water with the paper straw, pretending to be super interested in it. I did love myself. Kind of. What did he see, exactly, that made him say that? Our food came, and we were both quiet as we started eating.
“How’s your salad?” He frowned down at my Asian sesame chicken goodness.
“Do you know how many calories are in this?” I stabbed a forkful and pointed it at him. “Stop policing my food.”
He cut a bite of his ribeye and watched me through those hooded dark eyes as he took the bite and chewed slowly. I watched his jaw move. I watched the cleft in his chin. I watched his Adam’s Apple as he swallowed. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing.” Damn it. I took a huge bite and tried to smile. “Mm.” I shoved another bite in before the other bite was even finished. Silas glowered at me. When I finally swallowed I said, “And what are you even talking about. You chose steamed broccoli over a baked potato. Freak.”
“I love broccoli.” He shoved a giant spear into his mouth.
“I mean, I do too, but not in place of a baked potato.” I made sure to get a bite of wonton with a piece of chicken and a mandarin orange. Yum.
“When I close my eyes at night,” Silas said. “I can still feel myself inside you.”
I choked. Like, wonton down the windpipe, full on choking. He started to stand but I held a hand up and allowed myself to have a horrifying coughing fit. He held out the water and I batted his hand away, not caring when it sloshed over onto the table. I finally got my breath, but I sounded like a century-long smoker when I said, “Don’t say that!”
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat.
I reached for the water and took a big drink. “You’re not acting very vanilla.”
“Those are the sprinkles you’re tasting.”
Oh, my God. I sucked in a drop of water and started coughing all over again, covering my mouth and waving my other hand to tell him I was okay. And then I started laughing, and Silas began to chuckle too.
“I mean it, though,” Silas said. He put his elbows on the table and leveled me with those eyes.
“Stop,” I warned him, losing my smile as the force of his stare fell over me, warming its way straight down to my core as I remembered the feel of him behind me. “I can’t think about that.”
He licked his lips and looked down at his plate, which I just realized he’d polished off completely already. He sat back and crossed his arms. “Will you tell me what happened with the jarhead?”
A pang hit me in the sternum and I pushed my salad away. “Okay.” I told him almost everything. I didn’t mention the passion pit or what we’d done, but it was probably implied when I told him Shawn came