"There's a word I found recently. Evanescence. It made me think of you. It made me think of us. Were we just a dream, Sebastian?"
TW : Key themes of suicide and trauma.
WARNING: This is Book Two. Please read "affluenza" first to avoid any spoilers...
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TW// Panic Attack
MY FOOD COMES out in waves and my stomach practically sings as it's laid in front of me. I eat unceremoniously and without worrying about any table manners; the guy had to know by now that I wasn't the classiest person ever.
I couldn't help but wonder what good Roman seemed to see in me. I wasn't an idiot—I knew that I wasn't the best person in the world. I was sad and rude and selfish. But the idea that something about me wasn't broken, that someone as good as Roman could see something good in me was enough for hope to settle securely in my chest.
Some part of my head screamed that that was bad. That I was getting too attached to Roman, that I cared too much about what he thought of me. How did we even get to this point, anyway? When did he go from being a random bartender to one of my only friends?
You like him, I think. You like him a lot.
I swallow a huge gulp of scalding coffee, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. This wasn't going to end well. I just knew it. I should get out of this friendship while I could.
But I can't just run away. I like him way more than I'd intended.
Roman had finished his muffin a few minutes ago and was gingerly sipping at his coffee. I swallow back french toast sticks drizzled in syrup. "Did you want some?" I ask, chewing slowly.
He glances down at my plates. "I'm all good, thanks."
I make a face. "Oh, come on. I bought enough food to satiate a football team. My eyes were bigger than my stomach this time, unfortunately."
Roman opens his mouth to argue but I shove forward a plate of pancakes. "Eat," I say.
A slow smile spreads on Roman's face as he picks up a knife and fork, digging into the food. "And you call me controlling," he mumbles.
I smile softly and continue eating my food, pushing more plates towards him. Despite his protests, he finishes most of the food I gave him in less than five minutes. A satisfied grin threatens to show on my face, one that I'm having a really hard time fighting back. "What are you smiling about?" he asks, a mouthful of bacon.
"Nothing," I respond cheekily. "Nothing at all."
We dig back into our food and give the conversation a rest for a little while, but when I look back up Roman is fighting a smile too.
¥
"Whew!" I exclaim, rubbing a hand over my stomach. "I am stuffed."
Roman laughs as he pulls open the diner door and heads outside, me tailing him. "I sure would hope so. You did clean out all the food in the entire restaurant."
