Cyrus greets me outside of Colton's steak house. He's fresh shaved this time, his hair is clean and combed. Butterflies flurry in my stomach. I've never felt this way about a man before.
"Hey, pretty lady. Been waiting all day to see you." He smiles at me.
I smile back. "Couldn't wait to see you either." I try to flirt back.
"Shall we?" He asks, opening the door.
I walk in and ask for a booth for two. It's rather loud and bright, I fight to stay calm.
We order our drinks and food, and I realize that Cyrus's gaze is locked on my wrapped hand. "What happened to your hand?"
"Family issues." I grimace.
"Want to talk about it?" He asks, genuinely concerned.
"My birth father called me to the local Mexican Restaurant earlier just to tell me he needs a kidney. When I was diagnosed with autism, he assumed that it was the same thing as retardation. So, he left mom and me. When mom married my stepdad, he adopted me. To me my stepdad was my real dad. Anyway, when I spoke my mind and aggressively told him no, he tried to attack me, so I punched him. My knuckles caught his teeth and I had to get stitches." I ramble.
"Good." He snorts. "Serves him right."
Our waitress comes out and puts our plates in front of us, interrupting our conversation.
"Does everything look alright?" She asks sweetly.
"Yes." We both answer.
I take a bite of my sirloin tips as I ponder the situation I'm in. I don't want to donate my kidney to him. There's no guarantee I'm a match anyway, but if I am, and I don't donate, he'll die. I don't owe him anything, I know dad would back me up.
"Hey, Cy." I say, taking another bite.
"Yeah." He says softly.
"I do have the right to refuse him, don't I?" I ask anxiously. "I worry that I'll be a murderer if I don't. But he treated mom and me like crap. I can't explain it, but I feel obligated." I'm on the verge of tears. It doesn't feel right to allow someone to die, but I don't like him. I hate myself for not caring.
Cyrus looks deep into my eyes and says with the bluntest tone. "Fuck that guy. Tell me, before today, when was the last time you saw him?"
I pause because I honestly don't remember. He never cared to be in my life. Never.
"Honestly, I don't know." I answer.
"Exactly. My opinion would be different if he had been more involved in your life." Cyrus says frankly.
My nerves ease a little. "Thank you."
"No problem." He says, his eyes full of deep thought. "I know we've only known each other for a couple of weeks, but do you think we could be official? It's just, there's something about you, this feels natural."
I look back at him and blush. "It feels natural to me too. I would like to be your girlfriend."
He smiles at me warmly. "We text a lot, yet, I don't know you're middle name yet."
"Belle." I reply.
"And yours?" I ask as I take another bite of steak.
"Alexander." He says as he eats his mashed potatoes.
"Cyrus Alexander Dicks." I mumble. "Your name flows." I chuckle.
We get lost in conversation. He talks about the time a racoon snuck into his grandparents' house and his grandma threw a shoe at it while screaming like little girl. His grandpa chased it out of the house with a broom. I tell him about the time my dad locked himself in the tool shed because a couple of wasps got too close to him. I had to go rescue him with a can of Raid. The man had stared down wife beaters, people tweaked out of their minds, even violent pedophiles-but he was deathly afraid of red wasps.
He busts out laughing when I tell him why I'm terrified of roosters. I huff at him, slightly annoyed.
"I shouldn't laugh, I'm no better. I'm afraid of mice." He says matter-of-factly.
"Why?" I ask. "There so tiny and cute."
"They spread disease. But when I was about eight, grandpa had this remote-control mouse that he'd put in bed with me. He'd make it run across my body until I woke up, so now, if anything brushes across me in my sleep, I freak the hell out." He explains.
I bust out laughing at the thought of him freaking out like a little girl. "Don't worry, I'll protect you." I tease.
Cyrus pays for both meals, even though I insisted I could pay for myself. Stubborn ass. We both loiter outside of the restaurant as we wait for Macey to show up.
"Look, I know you don't like being touched, but I was wondering…" He trails off. Nervous he offers his hand for me to hold.
My heart flutters. None of my past boyfriends bothered to ask my permission before they'd just touch me. Happy, I interlock my fingers into his. This is nice.