All That and a Bag of Chips

Chapter 26

"I hope you like chicken," Collin said as they reached the top of the stairs.

Heather looked at him quizzically. "I thought you knew that I'm a vegetarian."

"What?" A shock of panic went through his chest. "But–but you ordered a super chicken burrito when we went out for Mexican last Tuesday."

She let out a snort, the remnants of her earlier hesitation melting away. "Sorry, that was an asshole thing for me to say. I do like chicken... And I'm impressed with your memory!"

He probably deserved it after how he reacted before, when they were on the bridge. "Well," he said, "You hold my attention."

He gazed at her. In the dim light of the upstairs, her eyes were a rich brown interwoven with a streak of forest green and sprinkled with highlights of amber. Every time he looked into her eyes, he noticed something new, something different.

After a moment, a blush creeping up her cheeks, she turned away.

"Want a beer to start?" He turned towards the kitchen. "We still have plenty. And remember, it's the champagne of beers, so you know it's good."

"Sure, I'd love one." She followed him and leaned against the open archway.

After a moment, he handed her a beer poured into a ceramic Snoopy mug. "Sorry, we don't have many glasses and we're out of red solo cups." Then he lifted his mug–which boasted an NPR logo, a gift after donating to the local public radio–and said, "Cheers!"

"Cheers!" She took a sip.

"I was just putting the finishing touches on everything when you knocked. Sorry that dinner isn't quite plated yet." He took out tongs and placed a serving of spaghetti on each plate.

"I'm early." She took another sip. "Veronica was going up to campus, so I took the bus with her and hopped off at your stop."

"Evening class?"

"No, study group," she answered.

Collin nodded. He hadn't really thought of girls like Veronica as the study group-type, but he also never thought of girls like Heather as being able to fall–even a little–for a guy like him. So, maybe he didn't know as much about people as he thought he did.

"Does she know about..." He gestured his hand ambiguously between them.

"Yes," she said simply, without elaborating.

Collin finished by putting a chicken breast on each plate and then sprinkling some fresh parsley over them. He carried them to the table, put them down, and then pulled out the chair at the head of the table for Heather. He took the corner seat. 

Heather cut into the chicken and took a bite. "Mmm," she chewed. "This is delicious."

Collin did the same and then swallowed his first bite. "Thanks. Yeah, it came out good."

"So..." she said as she swirled a forkful of spaghetti, "you said that it would be good for us to talk."

Collin puffed out his cheeks and let out a slow breath. "I said that, didn't I?"

"Hmm, mmm." She agreed, chewing.

"One second." He picked up his beer and tilted his head back, willing the carbonation to lighten up his thoughts and loosen his tongue. When he placed it down in front of him, it was half empty.

"That scary?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Not scary, just... I want to help you bridge the small river that prevents you from liking me the way I like you."