“Because, to my father, the image of the perfect son was what he wanted. The car didn’t fit with that image, so he made it disappear. I wish my father had made me pay for it or had me experience some sort of punishment, but he didn’t. He used his money to make everything all better. It’s the story of my life with him,” he said. He seemed surprised at his own words. His eyes lifted back up, piercing into me. “Your turn.”
I thought for a moment. “It’s no stealing a car, but it’s something I don’t tell anyone. Ever.” I frowned. This wasn't something I enjoyed telling people. I knew I could tell Jack though. It was like we had no secrets between us and I could tell him anything without fear. I knew instinctively that he would never laugh at me or judge me the way everyone else in my life did. There was a sense of safety I had never felt with anyone else that made me want to tell him everything about me. “I was bulimic in high school. Everyone thought I looked great, and it was so hard to stop when I finally had people asking if I had lost weight.”
“Why did you stop?”
“My dad is a dentist. He saw the acid damage on my teeth and told my mom. They never looked at me quite the same again after that,” I said, my voice cracking. I tried to hide it with a sip of water. “I still struggle with it, you know? My mom and sister are these perfect thin stick people, and I'm not. I don’t like the way I look. I don’t like the way my clothes fit, but no matter what I do, it isn’t enough. I know that people look at me and the extra weight is all they see. I lost boyfriend because of it. He said he didn't want to be with a 'fat chick'. I am terrified that I am going to end up alone because of it.” I was shaking a little by the time I stopped talking.
“I don’t see how that is possible. Your boyfriend was an idiot. You are beautiful,” Jack said, his eyes catching mine. He made sure I could see the truth in them as he continued. “I would date you if I met you in real life.” His face held a heat that made my insides start to tingle. My heart skipped a beat and I could feel my knees spread under the table. He thought I was beautiful.
“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I mean every word.”
“No one has ever called me beautiful. Other than my dad, but that doesn’t count.”
“Then they are all idiots. Except your dad, because you are beautiful.”
His eyes glowed caramel in the candlelight, full of honest appreciation. The heat in his eyes told me that he found me more than beautiful.
“What are you afraid of?” I asked quickly, changing the subject. The blush on my cheeks was threatening to light the table on fire.
“Spiders,” he answered nonchalantly.
“Spiders. That doesn’t count,” I said, giggling. He smiled at me and shrugged as though he were trying to take off an invisible weight.
“I’m afraid I will end up alone, but in a different way. I don’t have any real friends, at least none outside my work. I’m so busy with my job that I don’t have time to make connections and the ones I do make are tainted by business. I feel like life is passing me by. I’m surrounded by people, but I hardly know any of them and I feel like I can’t get to know them.” He peered into his water glass, sliding the liquid back and forth. “I’m afraid I’m going to miss days like today.”
His hand reached out and touched mine. A spark of desire, want, and need jumped between us. I was sure the tablecloth was going to explode with the current passing between us. He leaned forward, his perfect lips coming closer. I leaned closer, wanting to taste them. The table grew smaller.
At that moment the waitress returned with our meals. The spell we had woven with our secrets was broken. Jack ordered some wine and we settled into our food, our conversation drifting back to mundane topics. We still laughed and conversed easily, but the magic of secret sharing was lost.
We ordered dessert and I was surprised by how easily our conversation continued to flow. I could feel the wine making me laugh more than usual, but it had never been this easy to talk to a guy... ever,... even with much more alcohol than a bottle of wine. I found my hand drifting towards his on multiple occasions, but I kept my fingers to myself. I wanted to touch him and make sure he was real, but I didn't want to scare him away. I wanted to do so much more than just touch him.
The waitress came and refilled our wine glasses several times, but I barely noticed. The wine was delicious, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Jack — the way the candle lit up his eyes, the way he brushed his hand through his hair when he was thinking, the way he looked at me, and how I found myself telling him things I had never told another living soul. Before I knew it, we were the only ones left in the restaurant.