Sparrow

Troy didn’t lift his head from his phone even once. He just kept on punching the screen incredibly fast, both thumbs on the touch screen.

Maybe he didn’t know? But of course he knew. He would never have a blueberry pancake from a food truck willingly. It wasn’t his style. No. He knew.

Closer…

Nearer…

The more Troy moved up the line, the more I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. Everything fogged around his silhouette, my eyes focused solely on him.

Maybe you’re not ready to face him yet, a nagging inner voice teased. Maybe you should just turn around and help Lucy, like Daisy asked you to.

“Breathe,” Lucy whispered, not lifting her eyes from the griddle as she flipped pancakes.

But I couldn’t. He was quicksand, and I was drowning. Didn’t even fight it. Just gave in.

“Would you like to take his order?” Daisy asked when there was only one person before him in line.

I felt my head bobbing in a nod. No matter what, I couldn’t hide from him. That wasn’t us. When he challenged, I stepped up. And by showing up here, he wanted me to react. I had every intention of doing so.

“If he wants to eat Boston’s finest pancake, that’s exactly what he’ll get.” I stepped to the center of the window. The person before him took her paper plate and walked away, and he moved forward. I’d forgotten how tall he was. He didn’t even have to look up to capture my gaze.

“Hello.” He stared at me hard, his face devoid of expression.

Daisy disappeared deeper in the truck, leaving us alone. Well, other than the dozens of people standing behind him in line.

“Hi,” I said through a gulp.

He leaned his elbows on the order window and looked straight into my eyes with an intimacy you couldn’t fake. I felt so exposed, it was almost like he ripped off my top and bra and left me naked in front of the throng.

“One blueberry pancake, please.” His tone was neutral. Even.

What game was he playing now? I had no idea.

Averting my gaze, I punched the order in the cash register. I was disappointed. Confused, too. “Whipped cream?”

He slowly shook his head no. His gaze clung to my face, searching yet wary, like I was a rare mystical griffin, winged and ready to strike.

“One sugary crap coming up,” I said.

His lips twitched, like he was fighting a smile, but he didn’t let it loose. He just kept following my every move. Why didn’t he laugh? He loved it when I taunted him, thrived on my comebacks. It was what made him notice me in the first place. Up until I’d answered back, I was nothing than a piece of furniture.

Lucy handed me a plate. She looked just as puzzled as I was. Why was he acting like we were total strangers? I wanted to strangle and kiss the hell out of him and jump into his arms and kill him all at the same time. His influence on me was dangerous still. My feelings toward him still crisp and fresh as a spring morning.

“Here you go.” I lifted my gaze to meet his.

He dug his hand into his pocket and slammed the exact amount of the price on the counter. Did he know how much it would cost? Did he plan this? And he came all the way here…why? To show me that he didn’t give a damn anymore? That was a low blow, even for him.

“Keep the money. Buy yourself something pretty,” I told him, my face as stoic as it could be under the circumstances.

He didn’t laugh at my joke, or budge. The line snaking behind him was growing thicker, more impatient, people craning their necks to see what was taking so long. I didn’t say anything, not wanting to send him away, not brave enough to tell him to stay.

He was still staring. Why was he staring?

“Hey, man, are you done? My lunch break’s almost over.” A guy standing in line nudged him lightly from behind.

We paid no attention. “Do you know how Sam’s doing?” I asked quietly. My chin was glued to my chest, my eyes trained on the floor of the truck. I’d thought about Sam many times over the past few months. Knew his mom wasn’t exactly the most devoted in the world. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.

“He’s great. Living with Maria and Cat. Cat’s in therapy. She is getting better at the whole parenting thing.” He delivered the news flatly, no trace of emotion in his voice.

“Hey! You! Ask for her number and get it over with!” someone yelled from the end of the line.

“So you kept in touch with her.” I inhaled. That stung.

But he just smiled at me easily, taking his paper plate. “Good to see you, Red.” He winked before stepping out of the line.