Birthday Girl(5)

I stop the pastry two inches from my mouth and glare at him. “Would that disgust you or something?”

“No, I’m just wondering if I get one.”

I smile and wave at the box, telling him to help himself.

He picks up the plain glazed, and I’m not sure if he’s the no-frills type or just trying to save the special sprinkle ones for me, but either way, I kind of like it. We sit back and eat, but I can’t help stealing glances at him every once in a while.

His brown hair is light, and his eyes look blue, green, or hazel depending on what kind of light is flashing across them from the screen. He has a little stubble on his oval-shaped face, a sharp nose, and my gaze is drawn to the way his angular jaw flexes as he chews. There’s the faintest of lines around his eyes, so he might be more than thirty, but it could just be all his time working in the sun, too. He’s tall, strong, fit, and tan, and his eyes suddenly flash to the side as if he senses me staring. I turn my eyes forward again.

Dammit.

That’s okay, right? It’s normal to find other people attractive. It happens. I mean, Scarlett Johansson is attractive. That doesn’t mean I’m interested in her.

I take another nibble of my donut, my gaze darting to the side again, taking in his arms and the various tattoos. Black gears and bolts, like a robot skeleton, some tribal work that definitely says he was a 90’s kid, and I can just make out what I think is a pocket watch that looks like it’s trying to break free of his skin. It’s like a hodgepodge without any discerning theme, but it’s beautiful work. I wonder what the story is behind them.

I take another bite, the pink glaze and rainbow sprinkles sending electric shocks to the back of my jaw and making me crave the whole damn thing in my mouth at once.

“You know, I really kind of want abs,” I say, chewing, “but these are really good.”

He breaks into a laugh, looking at me and chuckling.

“What?”

“Nothing. You’re just…” He looks away as if searching for words. “You’re just kind of, like, interesting or…something?” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I mean. And then he blurts out, “Cute,” as if just remembering. “You’re cute, I mean.”

My stomach flips, and heat warms my cheeks like I’m in fifth grade again when it was such a compliment for a guy you like to tell you you’re cute. I know he means my personality and not how I look, but I kind of like it.

He finishes the donut and takes a sip of his soda. “So, what are you?” he asks. “Like twenty-three, twenty-four?”

“Sure, eventually.”

He breathes out a laugh.

“Nineteen,” I finally answer.

He takes a deep breath and sighs, something far off in his gaze.

“What?” I take the last bite and brush my hands together, slouching and leaning my head back on the chair.

“To be that young again,” he muses. “Seems like yesterday.”

Well, how old could he be? Nineteen couldn’t have been that long ago for him. Ten years? Maybe twelve?

“So, you’d do some things differently if you could go back?” I inquire.

He quirks a tight smile and looks down at me, his eyes serious. “Let me tell you something…. A little advice, okay?

I listen, looking up at him and my gaze locked with his.

“Hit the ground running,” he tells me.

Huh?

He must see the confusion on my face, because he goes on.

“Time passes by you like a bullet,” he says, “and fear gives you the excuses you’re craving to not do the things you know you should. Don’t doubt yourself, don’t second-guess, don’t let fear hold you back, don’t be lazy, and don’t base your decisions on how happy it will make others. Just go for it, okay?”

I stare up at him, and unfortunately, that’s all I can seem to do. I want to smile, because my heart is swelling, and it feels good, but I’m also filled with something I can’t place. It’s like a dozen different emotions flooding in at once, and all I can manage are short, shallow breaths.

“Okay,” I whisper to him.

I’m not sure if what he said was what I wanted to hear or needed to hear, but I feel my shoulders square a bit more and my chin rise with readiness. For however long it lasts, I’m a little braver, and he’s my new hero.

I watch as he pulls out a small box and proceeds to light a match, the small flame burning bright. He sticks it in one of the donuts, all the pink frosting Shel asked for, because she knows it’s my favorite color, glowing in the light. I feel my heart warm at the gesture.

Taking my feet down, I lean forward, close my eyes, and ask for what I want in my head, and then I blow out the flame.

I didn’t wish for what I usually wish for, though. My mind is suddenly blank, and I’m not remembering all the things I need and want right now outside of this theater. Just the only thing I can think of.

We both sit back and settle in, each having another donut as the lights finally dim, and the surround sound hits us from both sides of the theater.

Over the next ninety minutes, we eat and laugh, and I hide my face a couple times when I know something’s coming. I jerk here and there and laugh at him when he does, too, because he looks embarrassed. After a while, I notice my head lays inclined toward him, and he has his foot up on the empty chair ahead of us with his head laid back, as well, and we’re completely comfortable. It hasn’t even occurred to me to keep a certain distance.