Page 43 of Death, Interrupted

“Are you hungry?” he asked, voice low. “I’ll order something. Anything at all. Soup, noodles, whatever goes down easy.”

“I could try soup.”

“Good. Any no-go foods? Allergies? Things you hate?”

In my mind, those questions were rejected and seen as abnormal, when in reality, he was only trying to figure me out. And not in a way that could hurt me. He genuinely wanted to get to know me to make everything more comfortable.

“No mushrooms,” I said. “And nothing too spicy.”

“Got it.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll order from my favorite Japanese restaurant. They make the best soups. How about chicken noodle for you and plain rice on the side?”

“Sounds good.” I smiled gently. “What will you get?”

He shrugged and already scrolled through the menu on his screen. “Probably the same. And maybe some Yakitori.”

“Are those the chicken skewers?”

He nodded. “Want some too?”

“Yes, please.”

His eyes narrowed as he watched me closely, then he asked, “Do you like sushi?”

I loved sushi. In fact, I like pretty much anything besides mushrooms. And the more he talked about food, the hungrier I got. “Yes.”

“Good, then I’ll order sushi as well.”

He tapped through the app, then looked up and set the phone on the coffee table. Screen up. Not worried one bit if a message came in that I could see.

Joey hid everything from me, and Sly was slowly becoming an open book.

“Forty minutes, give or take. In the meantime, can I make tea?”

He was so caring, it scared me. I hated that I was such a burden to him. Even if he said I wasn’t, I still felt that way, because I always had.

“Yes.” I pointed toward the kitchen. “Mugs are in the left cabinet. Tea is in the jar by the stove.”

He moved so carefully and kept talkingjust enough so I didn’t feel alone. When the water was ready, he brought a mug to the table and set it by my hand. “Sip slow.”

“Thank you.”

I took a drink, let the heat help my chest relax, and watched him watch me as we just sat there. The worst of the panic was gone, but the aftertaste sat there. I hated that it could still hijack me like this. I hated that I needed someone to see me like this. I was still glad he’d come, but I hoped never to be like this around him again.

I took another sip, then set the mug down and looked at him. During all of this, a little voice was bugging me. It kept telling me to ask him about that one sentence he had said during his stream two nights ago. About having met someone with gray eyes. I hated the slight hint of jealousy inside of me, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

I just hoped he wouldn’t take it badly.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“In your stream, you said you’d met someone,” I said, keeping my voice even. “You said she had gray eyes.” I held his gaze. “Who were you talking about?”

He furrowed his brows. “You.”

I figured. But it didn’t make sense.

I pulled the sleeves of my sweater over my hands and chewed on my bottom lip. Maybe I had alwaysbeen wrong about my eyes. Maybe they weren’t green. But then why would it say 'green' on my license and passport?