In the Middle of Somewhere (Middle of Somewhere, #1)(33)

“She died when I was sixteen.”

I feel a rush of sympathy and I wonder if I should tell Rex that my mom died too. That I know what it’s like. Only, I have no idea what his situation was, so maybe I really don’t know what it’s like. I hate when people presume that they know how you feel.

Rex slides two plates of food onto the table while I’m still deciding if I should say anything. “Here, let’s eat,” he says, obviously not wanting to talk about it. He slices some bread and puts out butter. “Do you want something besides water? Wine? Tea?” I shake my head.

He gestures for me to sit down, but I push up on my toes and kiss him on the cheek, my hand braced on his firm chest. His cheek is smooth, and I realize I haven’t ever seen him clean-shaven before. I wonder if what Ginger said about putting effort into your looks for a date is true.

“Thanks,” I say. “For dinner and for picking me up earlier. You didn’t have to, but I—thanks.” Rex covers my hand with his own where it still rests on his chest and squeezes, smiling that shy smile.

On my plate is pasta with strips of grilled chicken and vegetables in what I assume is a white wine sauce, since I saw him add wine to the pan. It smells heavenly.

“Holy shit,” I say with my mouth full of pasta. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Rex smiles and shakes his head, but I’m telling the truth. I guess I was hungrier than I thought too, because I barely stop to breathe for a few minutes, distracted by the food in front of me, which somehow manages to be hearty and delicate at the same time. Kind of like the man who prepared it. I glance up to find Rex looking at me, his expression unreadable. Immediately, I realize I’ve probably been shoveling food into my mouth like a starving orphan and I put my fork down, embarrassed.

“It’s so good,” I say, hoping to distract from my table manners. I usually eat while I’m reading or walking somewhere. Maybe Ginger should have listed “Don’t eat like a hammerhead shark” among her dating tips.

“I’m glad you like it,” Rex says. And though he’s staring at my mouth, he doesn’t seem disgusted at all. “I like watching you eat.” Then he blushes and looks down. That should seem creepy, I tell myself, but for some reason it’s just really hot.

Rex turns back to his own plate.

“No, seriously, you could be a chef or something.”

“I worked as a short-order cook at a diner for a bit,” Rex says. “But you have to go so fast that it kind of took the fun out of it.”

Rex has finished the food on his plate and is absently eyeing mine. I’m full and warm and happy and can’t eat another bite.

“I’m done,” I say, pushing my plate toward him.

“You sure?”

“I’m stuffed, man. I haven’t eaten that well in… ever. Please.”

He pulls my plate up and starts to take a bite with my fork.

“I don’t mean to be a pig,” he says, pausing, and it has the ring of someone else’s words being repeated.

“You’re not a pig. I was the one cramming food in my face,” I say, awkwardly trying to put him at ease. “Besides, you need fuel for all that.” I indicate his brawn, giving him an appreciative look.

He smiles and cleans my plate.

“When we were in high school, my brothers would practically fistfight over who got the last of the food,” I say. “They ate constantly. Don’t know how my dad kept enough to feed them.”

“You’re the youngest, right?”

“Yeah. Sometimes my dad would put a plate aside for me before he called out that it was ready. Probably afraid I’d starve to death otherwise. God, I was such a runt.”

“Were you?”

“Yeah, I was skinny and I didn’t really have a growth spurt until my senior year of high school. Don’t worry, though,” I joke. “I made enough trouble for two kids.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. I was a little runty kid from South Philly. I did what I had to do. Pissed everyone off doing it too.”

Rex regards me curiously.

“I can see it,” he says, considering me. “Not the runty part, I mean. So, you got in trouble at school?”

“Not on purpose, but yeah. When I was in high school my teachers thought I was a loser. I was always mouthing off because the teachers would say stupid things or I’d get bored. There were so many people in every class that the teachers could never keep people focused on the lesson, so it was hard to concentrate. I would cut class a lot to avoid people. Got in a lot of fights. As a direct result of my big mouth, no doubt.” I smile at him wryly. It’s true. As a teenager I just couldn’t stop myself from saying smartassed shit to the wrong people.

“A lot of the time, they’d just assign busywork to keep the class under control, so I never did it because it was pointless. Then, when I actually did my homework, teachers acted shocked, which would piss me off. One year, I wrote an essay for my English class after I hadn’t turned in much homework and the teacher accused me of plagiarizing it. The only thing that saved me was that I’d written it out longhand because I had to type it at the library, so I had the draft and everything.

“Anyway, got in trouble at school, at home. You name it. I got suspended for fighting, suspended for smoking, suspended for skipping. Then when the school’d call my dad I’d get in trouble with him.”