Page 31 of This I Promise You
At least an hour goes by and we’re back on our regular bullshit. I don’t think I’ve laughed or cried this much in my entire life. My abs and my cheeks hurt. Maybe she’s on to something with the whole “waffles and pancakes and syrup make everything better” thing.
“Oh, hey, what time is it? My phone died,” Huxley sobers and asks.
“Uhhhhh…” I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time, “It’s 9:27. Why? Hot date?” I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
She looks out the window behind me, then drops her head. “Shit.”
“What?” I look too, but I don’t see anything. It’s too dark outside.
“Remember when you forgave me two seconds go?” She cringes and ducks her head.
I narrow my eyes. “Huxley. Wejustfucking talked about this shit.”
“I know, I know. But I technically did this before we talked. Don’t hate me,” she pleads with puppy-dog eyes.
Just then, the bell to the front door rings and I look to find Easton standing there. He’s in his typical attire: jeans, t-shirt, and colored flannel button-down. His hair looks…combed? And his cheeks are pink from the cold.
He squints and waves like something is off.
Damn it all to hell,he’s adorable.
I look back at Huxley. “What the fuck?”
She leans over the table and whispers quickly, “Just talk to him. If you still want nothing to do with him after tonight, then fine. But at least talk to him, like, a real conversation. And I told him to bring your shirt.”
“Oh, that’s good at least,” I say with so much sarcasm dripping from my lips.
“Hey, Huxley. Paul.” Easton’s voice is hesitant.
“Hey!”
“Hey, dude,” I say without rolling my eyes. I really want to roll my eyes.
Huxley gives me a look that says,behave. “It’s so good to see you, love. But I gotta run. I have a…rehearsal thing. Playing Maureen inRENTis tough business.” She gives Easton a hug and a kiss on the cheek and leans down to me and whispers, “Be nice.”
She kisses me on the cheek, too, and I fucking growl because I was not prepared for this today.
I’m not mad. Not really. Just irritated by the surprise attack. But I gotta get my shit together so I don’t scare off the cute baby deer.
Easton
I Think I Hate You
I’m left standing in the middle of Waffle House as the entrance door swings shut behind Huxley. What the hell was that?
I turn around and Paul is sitting in the booth, looking at me with aggravation painting his face. She did it again.
“Uh…” I struggle for what to say now that it’s just Paul and me. Well, and the staff and this old gray-haired guy in a black leather motorcycle jacket—the type without the sleeves—a few booths from the door. “So she did it again, eh?”
He gives a long sigh and leans his head back.
“Yeah… It appears she has.”
“So… Uh…” I don’t know what to do now. I was coming here to meet Huxley to give her Paul’s shirt. Oh! Right! The shirt I’m literally holding in my hands. I shake my head and hold it out to him. “Your shirt.”
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks. Did you wash it?" There’s a smirk on Paul’s face that I simultaneously want to kiss and punch right off. The conflict. But wash it? Seriously?
“I’m sorry, did I what?” I jerk my head back. “Did I wash it?”
