Page 39 of Heartstrings
This coaxed a small smile from him. “I’d rather die peacefully in my sleep at the ripe old age of ninety-five.”
“Yeah, me too,” I agreed as I turned over this new piece of information about Xander. It had to be scary for him, monitoring everything he ate. Going to a restaurant was probably a nightmare. What if someone messed up his order? “Do you have to carry an EpiPen around with you?”
Xander stood, propped his foot on the chair, and yanked up his pant leg. A black pouch with an EMS emblem was strapped around his calf. “I have a case that attaches to belts as well, but I don’t like the way it bulges underneath my shirts, so normally I wear the leg holster. Sexy, huh?”
Hearing this, I nearly choked.
“You okay?”
“Food down the wrong pipe,” I coughed out. I took a sip of soda and, once I was able to breathe again, decided to pretend the last five seconds hadn’t happened. “Is that thing uncomfortable?” I asked, gesturing at the EpiPen holder. It looked like one of those armbands people used to carry their phone when exercising.
“The holster? Nah,” he said, rolling his jeans back down and taking a seat. “I don’t even notice it’s there. I actually had more difficulty getting used to this when I was a kid because I didn’t like wearing jewelry.” He slid his arm across the table so I could inspect the medical alert bracelet hanging from his wrist. It was a simple stainless steel chain attached to an engraved plaque that read:
XANDER JONES
ALGY: SOY, GLUTEN,
SHELLFISH, PEANUTS, TREE-NUTS
GIVE EPIPEN CALL 911
ICE 503-555-0127
An alarmed look must have crossed my face, because Xander laughed. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been dealing with this my entire life, so I know how to handle it. I haven’t had an attack in years.”
For some annoying reason, a flush crept up my neck. I masked my embarrassment with what I hoped was an air of nonchalance. “Who said anything about being worried?”
Xander smirked. “You didn’t have to. Your expression was clearly one of concern.”
“Psst, yeah right,” I said, dismissing him with a wave. “I don’t have the energy to worry about someone who’s going to live to the ripe old age of ninety-five.”
“Whatever you say.”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “Can I ask you one more question?”
“Sure.”
“What’s with the soap?”
“The soap?” he repeated, his eyes still sparkling with amusement.
“Well, when you went to wash your hands, you took out a box that looked like one of those travel soap thingies.”
“Oh, right.” Xander fiddled with his shirtsleeve. “I bet you thought that was super weird.”
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, I promise I’m not some bizarre soap savant, but I always have to bring my own with me. The kinds used in most public restrooms have dairy or nuts in them.”
Damn. The poor guy couldn’t catch a break. Not only did he need to monitor every morsel he ate but the entire world around him. A peanut or dairy product could be lurking around any corner.
Out of nowhere, some type of electronic buzzer went off, and we turned toward the arcade. A group of people were crowded around one of the games, which was flashing and spitting out tickets. I blinked in surprise. Somehow, over the course of our conversation, I’d managed to forget we weren’t alone.
“Guess what?” I asked, making a point to switch gears once we turned back around. Xander was being perfectly polite, but I could tell he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the subject. “I decided to apply to that cinema makeup school Melody told me about.”
“Really? That’s awesome, Indie. You’ll be a shoo-in for sure,” he said, and I could tell by the way his face lit up that he meant every word.
“Thanks. I’m not sold on a career as a makeup artist, but I’vebeen in a major funk lately. I have to submit a portfolio as part of my application, and I’m hoping the creative process will snap me out of it. First things first, I need to come up with a theme.”
