All I Ever Knew Was Your Name [Nick Robinson]

SIX

give yourself a try by the 1975

"Oh my god!" I gush heavily over the salty and sweet combination happening in my mouth. It's so delicious, and it's so bizarre, but it tastes so good.

Milkshakes and french fries? Who would have ever thought they'd pair so nicely?

"Right?" Nick exclaims, enjoying the same flavors as I am.

I would answer, but I'm too busy enjoying the taste on my tongue. It's one of those things I missed out on all my life, and I was starting to kick myself for it. What else could I have missed out on? I'm not just talking about food. Anything! Everything!

As I'm basking in the glory that is this meal, I feel Nick watching me. I stop in my nearly gluttonous tracks for a moment, my eyes finding his.

I swallow my food. "What?"

He chuckles. "You're funny."

"Funny?"

"Funny."

"How?"

I earn a shrug from him. "You just are. You're like an alien or something."

"A what?"

"You know what I mean!" he laughs. I notice his smile is bright enough to illuminate the restaurant. It makes me feel warm.

I put my elbow on the table and rest my chin in the palm of my hand. "I don't."

He rolls his eyes and scoots towards the edge of his booth so that he's closer to me. "It's like," he pauses as if he's looking for the words to say. "Kind of like—"

"Like I'm a sheltered puppy or something?" I joke, sipping on my milkshake.

"No! No, not at all," he shakes his head nervously. I look up at him from my milkshake, then lean back in my seat. "I just think it's interesting that little things like this are new to you. It makes you interesting."

The minor cockiness on my expression flees. I feel it. It's quickly replaced by a soft blush; no one has ever called me interesting before. In fact, no one has ever called me anything. Well, maybe I've been called "girl with the brown hair" or "Tyra's quiet friend," but that's about it. Never interesting.

To cover the slight fluster I'm feeling, I lean back in and sip on my milkshake again.

"What are your friends like?" I ask, changing the subject. "You said you hang out with them a lot."

He slides his milkshake away from him slightly to his right. "They're— I don't know. My friends from school are fine. They're nice to hang around, but I'm not super close with any of them. I mean, my best friend, Owen, lives in West Lark. That's where I moved from. I'm closer with him than anyone here."

West Lark is about two towns over. If I had to guess, I'd say it's about a thirty minute drive from where we are. It makes me wonder why he moved so close to where he already was, but I'm sure he'll get to that soon.

"He's more like me," he continues, but stops after that.

"And what are you like?"

He inhales as if he's about to answer quickly, but pauses and looks away. It's strange, because he usually seems to have an answer for just about everything. "You know, I don't know. No one has asked me that before."

"It's an easy question, Nick," I giggle. I like the sound of his name on my tongue.

"If it's so easy, you answer it!" he fires back. "What are you like, Mary?"