Cuts and Bruises

Chapter Fifteen

TWO UPDATES NOT DATED MONTHS APART? IS THIS REAL? (Yes, it is). Enjoy the chapter! :) 

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Vincent and I stayed at the diner for another hour and a half after Jane and Trevor had left just talking. It was strangely nice and almost therapeutic to talk to him when he wasn't being a complete asshole. It was the side of him that I had only caught glimpses of before, and I was unsure what exactly triggered him to suddenly be so thoughtful and caring.

Before we left, I excused myself to the restroom, mostly because my heart was beating too fast by the way he had been looking at me for an hour. I didn't understand why and I didn't want to find out, so I decided to get a breath of air and splash some cold water on my cheeks to keep them from warming up inexplicably. 

When I came back out, I still had a stupid half smile on my face, regardless of how much I tried to get rid of it. As I walked back toward the table, I saw the flirtatious waitress at our table, bending down as she spoke to Vincent with a coy smile on her lips and a hand on his shoulder. He said something to make her laugh, and I slowed my pace as I watched her pull out a piece of paper from her pocket and set it on the table in front of him.

The smile was long gone by the time I reached the table and my eyes flashed to her number written with a heart on the piece of paper, and then to her as she laughed at something else he must've said. When she saw me approach, she stood up straighter and gave me a once-over, almost to check out the competition. 

Vincent turned to catch my eye and smiled brightly at me, but I couldn't muster the same type of reaction. For some reason, the pit of my stomach ached, and I suddenly just wanted to be home. "You ready?" 

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear almost shyly and nod, watching as the waitress moves over to let Vincent get out of the booth. She smiles brightly at him as we leave, and I notice the piece of paper sitting in his hands, but don't comment on it. When we get outside, he chuckles under his breath, crumbles the piece of paper, and tosses it into the trash can by the door. 

I wasn't able to help myself from asking, "What, you weren't into her?" 

I want to cringe when I hear how nosey I sounded, but Vincent didn't seem to either notice or mind. He just shrugs. "She was trying too hard." 

The simple excuse made me nod, and for some reason, my nerves began to fade away. As the gravel crunches under my feet, I scan the parking lot and suddenly realize that Jane, my ride, had left. 

"Come on," Vincent nudges my shoulder and nods his head. "My car is this way." 

Because there was no way in hell I was going to pass up a free ride, I follow him obediently to his car, noticing immediately the immaculate black finish on his Jeep. It was a newer Wrangler, one that I could only dream about one day driving, and it had Vincent's name all over it. He unlocks the car and I slide into the passenger seat, surprised by how clean it was on the inside. 

"What?" He asks upon observing my impressed expression. "Did you expect me to be a slob just 'cause I play football?" 

I glance at him with a half smirk and say innocently, "No, I expected you to be a slob because you're a guy." 

Vincent rolls his eyes at me as the car turns over and The Beatles float through the speakers. Again, I'm impressed, and can't help but ask him, "You listen to the Beatles?" 

He checks his mirrors and starts to reverse out of his parking spot, but has enough time to spare me a false chastising look. "You've got to stop assuming things about me, Webb. You've got me pegged all wrong."