When I turn back to Nick, he's shaking his head, a smile on his face. "Doris is quite a character," I say, watching her speak animatedly with two customers before sitting down beside them in their booth.

"She sure is. But that's how most people are around here."

I can't imagine that. Everyone knowing each other's business. It may be nice to know that a whole community is supporting you, but I can only imagine what would happen if someone made a mistake. They'd have to go about their life knowing that everyone else around them knows, and is probably silently judging them because of it. It all felt so... intrusive.

"Well, the closest thing we have to community where I'm from is occasionally saying good morning to my next-door neighbor."

"That doesn't make you sad?"

I scrunch my eyebrows. "Not really, I guess. It's nice having some privacy."

He seems to think it over. "As much as I love privacy, I wouldn't change how things are here. It can feel smothering at times to say the least, but it's nice to know that I'm never truly alone."

The thought makes me smile. When I first came here, it seemed like he wanted to push everyone away. It's nice to hear him say that he does like having people around. He's made so much progress over these past couple weeks. I can't help but think about how far I've come too, and it's nice to know that we're growing together.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, snapping me out of my thoughts. It would be easy to tell him what I was thinking about, but I didn't want him to think that I'm trying to psycho-analyze him. Plus, where's the fun in that?

"Nothing." I say, trying to distract myself with the menu. "Is there chicken parm here good?"

"It's delicious," he says, "but stop trying to change the subject."

I feign innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do." He says, pulling the menu down to expose my face. "And don't act like you weren't thinking about something, because I could tell."

Now I know he's bluffing. "And how is that?"

"Well when you're concentrating on something, you get these tiny wrinkles right here," he runs his thumb over the middle of my forehead. "And then you slightly frown, which cause lines right here," and he drags his thumb down gingerly to the corner of my lips. My lips part involuntarily.

His eyes darken as his thumb grazes over my bottom lip. "So, trust me, I know."

Our eyes connect, and electricity surges between us. I am suddenly aware of everything around me; of how our knees brush against each other under the table, of how my pulse quickens, of how everything around us fades away. We are paused in this moment, and I can feel something brewing between us, the tension growing heavier and heavier. His eyes are no longer locked on mine, but on my lips, and when they finally return, his brown eyes are so dark and intense that they practically turn black. I don't know how long I can take this, and when the anticipation is rushing through my veins and I don't think that I can take another second of waiting, when I'm certain that he's going to lean in and kiss me, Doris returns.

"What would ya'll like to eat?"

We practically jump away from each other, the moment vaporizing within seconds. Doris's voice has an edge to it, and both Nick and I know that it's a warning. I'm so frazzled that I seem to have lost all ability to talk. My brain can barely string together a coherent thought because all that I can think is: what the hell just happened? and why do I want it to happen again?

Nick seems to realize that waiting on me to answer is fruitless, because he takes charge and orders for both of us. "We'll have two chicken parms please," he says, and Doris writes it down on her notepad, but not before shooting him another warning look.

"You'll food will be ready in a few," she says, tucking her pen into her apron. "And no funny business."

When she finally leaves, I release a breath I didn't even realize that I was holding. Both Nick and I seem so frazzled by what just occurred that we desperately change the subject to anything else. We land on the topic of our shared childhood memories, and before we know it, we've spent forty-five minutes laughing about our mischievous adventures.

"Do you remember when we were nine, and you had the grand realization that my white walls were actually just giant pieces of paper?" I say, popping my last bite of my chicken into my mouth. The food here was delicious, and I make a mental note to make Nick take me here again.

He laughs. "And we drew all the characters from the Backyardigans onto your wall? Our parents were pissed." Now we're both hunched over the table laughing.

"Did you know that my parents didn't paint over that until I was fourteen? You got to move away, meanwhile I had a horribly drawn picture of Pablo the Penguin into my freshman year of high school!" We're both wiping away tears from our eyes now, and my stomach hurts so much from laughing that I'm almost positive that I'll have abs by morning.

"It's crazy how many memories we have together," he says.

I nod. "I didn't even expect you to remember any of them by the way that we first met. You practically treated me as a stranger." I didn't mean anything by my comment, but when I say it, his face falls.

"I'm sorry about that," he says, and I quickly shake my head. "You don't have to apologize. It feels like forever ago anyway."

"You still didn't deserve to be treated that way. I was a complete jerk, and I thank god every day that you didn't just give up on me." His tone is serious, and I can tell that this is something that has been bothering him for a long time. "I know that sticking with me wasn't the easiest choice by a longshot, but I am so grateful that you did."

I flash him a genuine smile, one that I hope illustrates the raw emotion I have for him.

"I am too."

His eyes grow bright, and I can tell that he understands just how I feel.

Southern Boy Charm | ✓Where stories live. Discover now