10. The Hangry

TEN

THE HANGRY

BECCA

I t's the waitress stopping at our table with a carafe of coffee that sends me crashing back to reality. "Coffee?"

We both nod, and reach for the single ceramic mug in the center of the table. I get to it first, but his hand covers mine and I jolt and gasp like I've never been touched by a man before. But I have. Just—not all the way.

"Oops. I'll bring you another. Hold tight," she says, snapping her chewing gum on every other word.

He removes his hand from mine and glues his eyes once more to the menu, shifting in his seat again. He seems to do that a lot. Maybe it's a hockey thing? Does he have jock itch? I recall Hayes and Mom having the worst arguments over his hockey gear that he needed to wash them more often, and sure enough, he wound up with a bad case of it once.

"So, what'll you have, sugar?" The waitress returns, sets down two fresh mugs of coffee and nods at me.

"I'll have the soup of the day," I say.

"That's it?" He shakes his head. "We'll have the full Flap Jack Stacks breakfast with two eggs over easy, bacon and sausage, and a side of hash browns and toast. We'll also get a cheeseburger—make it a double—with bacon, and extra fries. And uh…"

While he glances down at the menu again, the way he says we and orders for us only makes the butterflies inside of me flutter more.

"Two slices of chocolate cake," he finishes. I'm wondering if he has a hollow leg to put all this food in.

As she walks away, I quirk a brow. "You're eating all of that."

"Nope. We are." Before I can argue he goes on. "I see your father's name cropping up in the news as making a run for Governor of New York in the upcoming election."

Hm. News to me. I roll my eyes. "You think I care? I don't keep up with his political aspirations anymore."

"So this argument really tore your family apart? I always thought the mighty Brooks' clan were immune to anything like that."

"Then you had us figured wrong. Sure, on the outside we were the image of the perfect family, but behind closed doors, their control over us was stifling. They were always so worried about how things would look for Dad's political career if Hayes and I didn't do as they wanted and behave like perfect angels. I envy my brother for getting as far away from them as possible, even if it meant leaving me behind."

As I talk, he rolls his sleeves up and leans forward on fabulous tan forearms like he's really interested in my family saga for some reason. "But you're here, far away from them, too."

I look away and glance around the restaurant, taking in a deep breath, and slowly letting it out before I face him again and answer. "Because they wouldn't support my decision to major in dancing. They wanted me to attend an Ivy League school and become a teacher or a nurse and give up my dream of dancing. They threatened not to pay for my college if I didn't comply with their wishes. So I stayed, but once I graduated, I had no plans to stick around."

I reach for the coffee and take a sip. All the money they spent on me for dance lessons and ballet shoes and leotards was only to keep me busy because they focused all their attention on Hayes, praising him, and helping him even when he didn't deserve it. But I never held it against him. Despite them, he and I were always close.

Which is why I can't believe he keeps his distance from me now.

"Well, at least you got your degree," he states.

"Sadly, I didn't. During senior year, one of my professors was moving here to become the choreographer of the newly formed Las Vegas Ballet Company. He talked me into trying out for a soloist role and with his influence he assured me I'd get it. I was so excited, I dropped out of school, I packed my things, and drove out here, but when I arrived, he'd been forced by the director and their major benefactor to hire the philanthropist's granddaughter instead."

"Shit."

"At that point, I had nowhere else to go but home and admit defeat in front of my father's gloating face. I just couldn't do that. So I've been here ever since. Struggling to find dancing gigs, and now penniless without a job."

There's more to the story, about me and the professor, but he doesn't need to know the rest. I think he gets the picture of the sad formerly rich girl who's down on her luck. Somewhere underneath his manly exterior, he's probably taking great satisfaction hearing my plight. I give him kudos for not laughing at me.

The food arrives just in time so I don't have to say anymore. I blink away tears, trying not to cry in front of the hot man opposite me, and I pull my soup bowl closer. Only I'm not so hungry now. The moment has passed, and just looking at all the carbs and fat and calories on these plates will add inches to my hips.

Given the new jobs I'm going to have to apply for over the coming days, I don't need to balloon up ten pounds.

"Eat up," he says, and stuffs half a pancake into his mouth that drips with syrup.

"No, I'm okay." I shove the bowl away.

"Then why'd you come to dinner with me?" His steely eyes call me out and I don't like it.

"I was hungry then, but not now." I snap. Okay, so maybe I am hang- ry. Also I'm a little high strung and worried about not having a job tomorrow when I need to pay Calista my share of the rent. I'm tired, too, exhausted, in fact.

I lived twenty-two years of my life not realizing this was how the other half lived. Now, two years later, in the struggle of my adult life, I'm done. At the fringe of my brain a tiny thought grows. I should call Mom and tell her I'll come home.