Page 61 of Don't Let Me Break
“Says the girl who’s pretty easygoing and has been up for anything so far. Tell me what you like to do.”
“Other than study, avoid bars, be dragged to the gym, and make cookies with friends?” I shrug. “Not much.”
“So, no dancing?”
“Dancing?” I ask.
“You mentioned you’d like to go dancing, remember?”
The memory of our conversation after the grocery store fills my mind, and I nod, surprised by his attention to detail. “Oh, yeah. Well, I hate to disappoint you, but when I mentioned dancing, I didn’t mean I actually knew how to do it. Only that I’d like to try it one day.”
“Got it,” he murmurs. “Anything else? No hobbies or anything?”
With another shrug, I dip my finger into the cookie dough and steal a small taste, sucking it off. “I guess I’m too busy focusing on school.”
“Well, take it from someone a little older than you. Take advantage of this time in your life. Have fun. Go out. Do things.”
“Things,” I mimic. “Sounds very specific.”
He chuckles as he reaches around me, grabbing the spatula from my grasp and setting it on the counter. “As long as you’re having fun, I don’t think it matters what you do. All I’m saying is, don’t let life pass you by.”
“Is that why you invited me over? So you wouldn’t be bored on a Friday night?”
“I invited you over because we both agreed being lonely is a bitch, and being lonely together might not be so bad.”
“So, no dating?” I push. I shouldn’t. It’s not like I care what he does or who he dates, but I can’t help it. He seems so put together. So perfect. How is he still single?
“Yeah, no dating for me,” he returns.
“Why not?”
“For starters, I still can’t figure out the appeal of online dating. Everyone either wants to start sexting right away, or they want to know what my favorite color is and refuse to meet face-to-face. It’s exhausting.”
“Sounds exhausting.” I add a teaspoon of baking powder into the mixture, pushing the bowl toward him so he can take a turn stirring. “But to be fair, I feel like dating, in general, is exhausting.”
“It shouldn’t be,” he argues. “Not if you’re dating the right person.”
“Guess I’m bad luck, then.”
“Debatable.” His attention slips down my body before he looks at the bowl and continues stirring. “When did you stop dating your ex from the gym?”
“Who? Wes?” I confirm, surprised by the subject change.
Mack nods, his forearms flexing as he mixes the cookie dough like a sexy chef.
“Um…a couple of months ago.”
“Were you two serious?”
“We could’ve been. He told me he loved me, and I told him I had epilepsy, which in my book is the closest testament to love I could get, but you already know how the story ended.”
“You think he broke up with you because you told him you have epilepsy?”
“Uh, yeah.” I nod my head. “Obviously.”
His lips pull into a fine line, but he doesn’t answer me, adding another cup of flour to the bowl. The familiar whir of the hand mixer breaks the silence. Once the flour is well combined, he turns the mixer off again and glances at me. “You like to keep your diagnosis close to the chest, don’t you?”
Ignoring him, I take the premade batch of cookies from the oven, set them on the stovetop, and lean my hip against the counter. “It’s complicated.”