He nods. "Yeah, I know what you meant. Message received."
There's a finality to his tone that makes me wish I hadn't said anything. Because the truth is, I want Nash to kiss me again, and do more than that. But it's not a good idea. He's leaving at the end of summer, and even if he wasn't, I shouldn't be getting involved with him.
"How's the steak?" he asks.
"Good."
"That's it?" He acts offended. "You're supposed to say it's the best steak you ever had."
"It's really good, but I've had better." I stab a chunk of it with my fork.
"Where? At a restaurant?"
"My stepdad used to make the best steaks ever."
"And he doesn't anymore?"
Shit! I keep using the past tense. This is why I can't be around him. I keep slipping up.
"He hasn't for a while," I say, trying to ignore the images forming in my head. I can see Greg standing over the grill in the back yard, smiling as he watches my mom cut flowers, Ben running around next to her. One, two, three, four....
"Callie." I feel a hand over mine and open my eyes to see Nash is no longer across from me. I turn and see him beside me, looking even more concerned than he did earlier. "Are you okay?"
I nod and force out a smile. "Yeah. Why?"
"You shut down just now. And then you, um...started counting."
I let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah. That was just a joke. I was a math major in college and sometimes I count out loud just to see how people react. It's a nerdy thing math people do." I pull my hand back from his. "You obviously didn't get it."
He's staring at me like he's not sure if I'm kidding or telling the truth.
"Aren't you still a math major?" he asks.
"Yeah. Why?" I turn back to my plate and pick up my fork.
"You used the past tense. Are you changing your major?"
Dammit, I did it again.
"I'm still a math major. I don't know why I used the past tense. Probably because it's summer and I'm not in school."
He gets up and returns to the seat across from me. "So why math? I know that's a personal question but you brought it up so you might as well explain."
"I was going to—" I stop, realizing I used the past tense again. "I've just always liked math and knew I wanted to be a teacher. I'm planning to teach high school math."
"I hated math in high school. But if I had a hot teacher like you, I would've looked forward to math class."
I glance up and see him casually taking a bite of steak. Was he flirting with me with that comment, or just making a statement? I'm guessing it was just a statement. I think Nash is the type of guy who flirts with all girls, not just me. I think it's just part of his personality.
"So tell me what you want me to do with your grandfather's things," I say, changing the subject.
He spends the rest of dinner going over how he wants me to sort through the boxes, describing what's worth keeping and what's not. Then we go over timing. I agree to come over for an hour in the morning, then come back for a couple hours after work. This is a huge change to my schedule and just talking about it has me feeling anxious. The only thing keeping me calm is knowing Nash will be there. The guy scared me to death when I first met him, but as I've spent more time with him, I'm finding he's able to ease my anxiety. I think that's why I keep agreeing to hang out with him. My mind craves the relief from the constant worry and guilt I've felt since that horrible day.
"Ready for dessert?" Nash gets up and takes my empty plate. I'm surprised it's empty. I haven't finished a meal in over a year. I've had almost no appetite, but tonight I somehow managed to finish that entire steak.
"What's for dessert?" I ask.
He chuckles. "The cookies. Do you want me to go get them?"
I totally forgot I was supposed to bring cookies. I never made them. It was just an excuse I made up to explain why I was looking back at the house when he mentioned my parents.
"Um, I didn't actually make any cookies," I confess.
"Then why did you say you did?"
"I don't know." It's the only explanation I can come up with, but it's not a very good one because he's giving me this strange look. But then he smiles.
"Come on. Let's go." He takes our plates and gets up and goes into the kitchen.
I follow him. "Go where?"
"We're going out for dessert. There's an ice cream stand about five minutes from here."
That's the stand I used to take Ben to all the time. He loved it. We went almost every day in the summer.
"No," I say, images of Ben filling my head. I can still see him in his little green shorts and his white t-shirt with the dinosaur on it. He wore that shirt constantly and he'd always spill ice cream on it.
"You don't want to go?" Nash asks, setting the plates down on the large box he's using as a temporary table.
"I'm not hungry." My voice is shaky and I take a breath in an attempt to steady it.
"Would you mind going with me? I could really use some ice cream. It won't take long. We'll just—"
"No!" I yell, then realize how loud I said it and feel my face heating up.