Love You to Death by Melissa March

trust
someone again.
    I licked my lips nervously. It wasn’t like he
was asking me to have sex. It was dinner and a movie. A date. Girls
my age were doing it all over the world. I drew a deliberate breath
and raised my head. He was watching me with his cop face, trying to
figure out what I was going to say.
    I exhaled in rush. Cass, keeping his eyes on
me, started rolling up one of his sleeves then the other. This
reminded me that I didn’t have any nice clothes. I might be able to
pinch something at the Harborplace Mall. My jeans were decent. I’d
need a shirt...
    “Are you almost finished?” he asked
testily.
    “What? Is there a time limit on the
question?” I said offhandedly.
    He didn’t answer me. Instead, he pushed a
deep breath through his nose and sat back, crossing his arms over
his chest. I watched him staring at me, waiting. His expression
closed, his eyes shuttered. I realized then that he expected me to
say no.
    For some reason I couldn’t explain, this
assumption made me feel like I was more in control than I thought.
I liked that.
    “If I say yes,” I said, hesitating to search
for the right words. “What will you expect in return?”
    “Is that what you’re worried about?” The look
on his face didn’t change, but his tone was delicate, like he was
talking to a sick child or a skittish puppy. “Arden...”
    “Just answer the question,” I snapped,
embarrassed.
    “I expect you to be nice. No smart mouth
comments, just a night of being with a friend, and having a
fun night.” He lifted one side of his mouth in a lazy smile.
    “Nothing else?” I asked. He knew to what I
was referring. Our eyes locked in a shared understanding. His only
answer was the slight shake of his head.
    “Fine. Pick me up at 5:00.” We’d eat first,
that way if anything happened I’d at least have my dinner. To me,
it was all about the food.
    * * * *
    I had to pace myself. The food was really
hot, but it tasted so good. I was practically shoveling it in. The
melted cheese on my burrito burned my tongue. I didn’t care.
    Cass had picked me up on time and drove
directly to The Avenue Mall where Don Pablo’s was located. We were
quickly seated in a booth with a window. I watched people stroll
by, thinking to myself how oblivious they all seemed to the luxury
of their lives.
    The waitress brought me another soda, my
third. I nodded at her because my mouth was full. She smiled at me
then cast a quizzical look at Cass. She didn’t have to say
anything. I knew we looked like an odd couple.
    He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved knit
shirt that matched his eyes. I had on jeans too, but they were well
worn, and the blouse I’d stolen from the Banana Republic had that
never-been-washed look, crisp and new. I figured it looked like
what it was: poorly thrown together.
    I turned my plate around and started on the
cornmeal spoon bread. I saved it for last because it was my
favorite. I hummed with appreciation. Cass smiled, observing me
happily from across the table, sipping his beer.
    “I’ve never seen anyone so into their food
before.” He smiled.
    I shrugged my shoulders, more than a little
conscious of my table manners.
    “It wasn’t an insult. Food should be
appreciated.”
    “I wanted to be a chef,” I said, before I
could catch myself.
    “Really?” His surprise was genuine.
    I shrugged again. I didn’t want to get
personal with him. It was enough to be indebted to him for
necessities, like my sneakers and winter wear. He didn’t need to
know my hopes and dreams.
    “Chef Arden,” he murmured, tilting his head
up, staring off into space. “I could see that.”
    Sometimes I couldn’t believe how sweet he
could be. I found myself beginning to like him. I knew this was a
bad idea, for so many reasons, mostly because of the warning bells
still going off in the back of my head.
    “What are you doing, Arden?” He leaned in,
his elbows resting on each side of his plate, his eyes serious.
    “What do you