"What do you want to know? I'll tell you everything."
She didn't answer; couldn't. How could she answer a question like that? It had almost taken it out of her just to say that she wanted to know more about him, and now he expected her to say more?
He expected her to say to him—everything. Your favourite food, favourite colour, what haircut you had as a kid, if you were a Disney kid or a Nickelodeon kid, if you're a maths or an English person, cats or dogs?
She wanted to know every shade that there was to Leon Hughes.
She wanted to light the shadow of Leon in hues she never could have imagined.
But the idea of voicing those thoughts—her heart would probably stop beating.
"I want to know," Leon began to her surprise, "what you ate for breakfast."
"What?" Natalie sputtered through a laugh. That had been the last thing she expected. She met his gaze, and he grinned back at her, his eyes sparkling, and she immediately understood.
Natalie had always been bad at hiding her emotions. Her bitten bottom lip and terrible cuticles were a testament to that. Leon was good at easing her nervousness. He was the antithesis of Natalie. He always knew what to say, and when to say it. Natalie lived with a perpetual foot in her mouth.
"It's a very important question," he added. When Natalie's smile grew, so did his. "You can learn a lot about a person based on their breakfast choice."
"Really? What does a slice of banana bread tell you?"
"Toasted?"
"Of course."
"With or without tea?"
"With. English breakfast with honey."
"Pretty posh of you," he assessed. "I'd say you go to some fancy school like St Helena's or something, but I already knew that."
She giggled at that. "What, that's it? Not much to learn after all, huh?"
"It also tells me," he said, stepping closer, "that you like sweet things, but not too sweet. That you're patient, obviously. An early bird?"
Natalie nodded and his smile turned gentle.
"See? A very important question," he said.
"Well, what about you?"
"Me?"
"What did you eat for breakfast?" she asked.
He laughed. His face seemed suspicious for a moment, and she thought he might not tell her, but then he said in a calm voice, "Oats."
"Oats?" Natalie repeated incredulously.
"Yes, oats. What's wrong with oats?"
"Nothing. You just never really struck me as an oats person," she said.
"What does an oats person look like?"
"I don't know. Glasses. Greying hair. In a retirement home, probably."
"What! Oats are good for you!" he exclaimed, growing defensive.
Natalie shrugged.
He scoffed.
"Oats are full of fibre," he said matter-of-factly.
"You sound like an advertisement for oats," she said. "Does Uncle Toby's pay you for this?"
"They don't need to. It's just facts. Oats are considered a superfood, you know."
"Okay," Natalie said. "I believe you."
YOU ARE READING
Bruised
Teen Fiction"Natalie," he repeated, her name like velvet on his tongue. He seemed to like the sound of it because he repeated it again, his voice turning low. "Natalie." Leon Hughes was a mystery masked by bruised cheeks and bleeding knuckles. He was a wraith...
