“Seriously? Homeboy’s like fifty—that’s kinda gross.”
“You did not just say homeboy!” I hold my breath trying to contain the laughter.
“You know, you have an uncanny ability to make me feel like a complete douche. No one ever calls me out on what I say, or the way I say it. I normally make this shit sound good. I could make up a goddamn word and everyone at school would be using it inside a week!”
This time my laughter rips through the car like a sonic boom. I clutch at my side and hold my palm over my bandage, trying to ease the discomfort in my stomach that my outburst causes.
“Gretchen, stop trying to make fetch happen! It’s not going to happen!”
“What?”
“It’s a Mean Girls' quote,” I say, swiping at a tear my laughter is causing. I can tell I’ve lost him and he has no clue what I’m talking about. “Sorry, never mind.”
“Yeah, I think someone’s had way too much candy. I’m cutting you off.”
“No way!” I yell trying to grab at the bag he’s just snatched from the seat.
“Maybe you’re like, hyperglycemic or something…”
“You moron, if I was hyperglycemic I’d be completely strung out and tired.”
“Wow. Easy there, tiger, there’s no need for the name calling.”
I slump back down in my seat with a petulant scowl.
“Okay, well in that case, can we stop there?” I point to an IHOP we’re about to pass.
“I don’t know. Can I trust you to behave like a normal human if we do?”
I puff my lips and mutter how rude he is under my breath, and he rolls his eyes and pulls into the parking lot.
It turns out that I do actually have a limit to the amount of pancakes I can consume. I’d been determined to prove Ethan wrong and finish the absurdly high stack in front of me, but I’ve been defeated, and I’m the polar opposite of a gracious loser. If someone placed a pin near me at this very moment, it would only take the slightest prick and I’d burst.
“Told you you’d never finish them,” he grins triumphantly as his cocky ass smirk slides into place, the one that's usually reserved for school or when he’s performing. He moves his empty plate over to the side and slides my half-full one in front of him.
“Yeah, yeah whatever. No one likes a smart ass,” I chime, leaning back in my seat and feeling the undying urge pop the button on my jeans and lay out across the booth.
“I think I’m about to go into a diabetic coma. Seriously, you can’t really want to finish mine, too.”
“I do, and I will. Your problem, Ms. Thomas, is that you have no stamina,” he says dumping more maple syrup on top of the already sugar-coated sticky food.
“I want to argue that,” I say pressing my fist into my chest, trying to contain the burp that’s bubbling its way up my body. Please lord, do not let me belch in front of him. Nothing screams ‘she’s a keeper’ like passing wind in public. “But I’m in no position to do so at the moment, so let’s talk about something else, okay?”
“Sure. What do you want to talk about?”
The fizzing in my chest subsides and I breathe a little sigh of relief; the victory is small, but welcomed. I want to broach the subject of our discussion yesterday and ask him to go and see someone, get help, but I have no idea how to do it. He seems in such a good mood at the moment; I’m not sure I want to rock the boat just yet.
“Spit it out, Princess. You obviously want to say something, and it's written all over your face. What’s up?"
I swallow and take a deep breath. It’s better now than never, right? Just do it, Blair.
“I was thinking about what you said to me, you know, about your dad…and the thing is, well, I…” His face has lost its playful edge; his eyes are narrowed and he drops his fork and sits back crossing his arms over his chest. I’m no body language expert, but it’s pretty clear that he’s pissed I’m mentioning it.
“Okay, I’m just going to say it. I think you should go and see a therapist.” I fix myself, ready for an outburst, for him to shout, get mad, annoyed and tell me no way. What I didn’t expect was for him to look like I’d just sucker punched him. I watch as the color drains from his face and his shoulders concave as he squirms in his seat, visibly shrinking before me.
“You think I need help?”