Concerns and Counter-claims

I couldn't decide if I should hold her hand or not, as we were walking down the street to find some breakfast. Were we "dating" again? Or "trying things out"? "Seeing what happens"? It hadn't really been made clear, and I didn't really feel like getting into the specifics. That would require talking about the whole stupid mess.

Therefore, it was under the pretense of concealing my Brand that I kept my hands firmly in the pockets of my long coat. Beck didn't seem to notice, flouncing along at my side. More or less at my side, anyway. She seemed more full of energy and enthusiasm than I'd seen from her in months.

"We haven't been to the Egg in awhile, why don't we go there? I love their home fries!"

"Sounds good."

"Are you cold? You've got your hands in your pockets."

I looked around for anyone who might hear, and muttered, "Brand."

"Oh, right. You know, I'd almost forgot all about... that."

She looked sideways at me as she said it, and I got the distinct feeling that she was telling me what she thought I'd want to hear.

Was this what our... relationship?... was going to be? Me second-guessing every word and question, wondering if she was more interested in me, or in the Text concealed inside my coat? Yes, I'd felt the need to bring it, and with every step I wondered why. Apparently nobody else could read it, so it wasn't dangerous unless, ironically, it was in my hands. Nobody would benefit from stealing it. 

All the same, I was beginning to feel a slightly unsettling attachment to the book, almost an affection. It was no less than a passport to my new and interesting life. The idea of leaving it somewhere and going about my day as though nothing had changed... well, my coat had a perfectly suited inner pocket, where superstitious soldiers would store Bibles, and autumn was just arriving. I could inconspicuously carry the Text with me for a long time. 

The idea was uncomfortably comforting. 

"Tyler?" Beck said, somewhere behind me. I turned and realized I'd walked right past the door of the Egg Wrecker. Lost in thought. Not something Trick would normally be doing.

I laughed. "Sorry, zoned out." Beck raised an eyebrow, pulling open the door of the little restaurant for us. I followed her in, appreciating the smell of home fries. Beck was right, they really were good here.

The Egg Wrecker was owned by Juliet Montague, whose parents had matching degrees in English Literature and matching terrible senses of humor. Juliet had finished high school two years before Beck and I, and pursued her dream of opening a brunch restaurant. Inspired by some restaurant she'd been to in Boston, she'd made the Egg Wrecker a standoffish, roadhouse-type breakfast joint, where the only menu was a messy chalkboard and orders were simply shouted to the short-order cook, who was usually Juliet herself. 

"Morning, Trick! Beck! Sit down, I'll be right with you!"

True to form, Juliet was behind the griddle this morning, wielding a pair of spatulas like Legolas in the Lord of the Rings films. She claimed to have had them made by an actual sword maker, using the finest steel. Only an amateur breakfast warrior myself, I wasn't sure why a Hattori Hanzo spatula would improve the quality of your meal- but then, I wasn't a successful cook.

Amidst the flashing, clanging steel, mouth-watering delicacies sizzled and popped. Pancakes, bacon, sausages, French toast, what appeared to be a breakfast burrito, hash browns, and of course Juliet's trademark Wrecked Eggs, which were basically scrambled eggs prepared with theatrical violence, sprawled across the speckled surface of the griddle like the aftermath of some delicious explosion.

Beck led me to a seat at a side table, although I would have enjoyed sitting at the sushi-style bar and watching Juliet work. Sure enough, only seconds after taking my seat, I heard a series of clangs, the whoosh of a fireball, and an appreciative "oooooh," from the diners seated at the bar. Damn it. I'd missed something cool. 

I looked around to the bar, hoping the show was still in progress, and when I looked back, Beck was propped on her elbows, gazing across the little table at me, a dreamy smile on her face.

"What's got you so giddy?" I asked, realizing as I said it that I sounded like a dick. She apparently didn't notice. 

"I'm just happy to be out with you. And I like it here. And," she said quietly, leaning in conspiratorially, "I'm thinking about when we get back to your place." She returned to her seat with a seductive smirk. My stomach gave a not-unpleasant lurch.

"When you're done soulgazing," came a ringing voice, "You can tell me what you want to eat!"

I jerked, twisted in my seat, and found myself the center of attention. Juliet waggled a gleaming spatula and grinned at me. "Empty griddle. What's your poison?"

"The usual, Jules. Thanks for asking," I muttered in what I hoped was a good-natured, lightly sarcastic way. I probably just came across as a dick again. 

"So!" Beck squeaked, causing me to twist yet again, "What've you been up to, lately?"

"Uh. Pretty much the same old thing. Other than this business with, you know, the Conclave, and everything with you and me, there haven't been any surprises." I chuckled sardonically. "Frankly I think those two things are enough. I could write a book."

"I'd read it," she said. "How's work?"

It had been like a day and a half since she came to the store and dropped my break-up box at my feet. "Pretty much the same. Although, I don't remember if I mentioned, Lee got a job there. It's kind of a cover, she's going to be helping me with Reading."

"Lee is working with you?"

"Yeah, it should be interesting. You know, I thought she was sort of a b***h at first, but I have to admit, she seems to mean well. She just takes the whole Conclave thing really seriously, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Anyway, she told me I'll be getting paid. I didn't know that, did you?"

"Yeah, they told me."

I stopped talking and looked closely at Beck's face. Her eyes were downcast, suddenly, where before she'd been glued to my eyes as though she'd never seen anything like them. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "I'm just hungry."

"Oh. Well, breakfast should be-"

"Here!" Juliet called, slapping a pair of loaded plates to the counter. "Trick!" She gave me a you-better-come-and-get-this-before-I-change-my-mind look and turned to prepare something else. I laughed, went to the counter, and brought the heavy plates back to the table. 

I almost didn't make it back. The steaming heap of deliciousness under my nose taunted me for the eight steps I had to take, and it was all I could do to say "here you go," to Beck before I attacked my food with a will. It was perfect. Everything tasted awesome with everything else. A mouthful of pancake and corned beef hash? Delicious. Wrecked Eggs and crispy bacon? Splendid. Toast with all of the above, piled high and munched like a quadruple-decker sandwich? 

Orgasmic.

It must have been the endorphin rush or something, but I didn't realize Beck wasn't eating for at least a minute or two. I guzzled some orange juice (fresh squeezed, of course, this place was a goddamn paradise,) hastily and said "What's wrong? Is your food okay?"

"What? Nothing's wrong."

"It's just that you said how hungry you were. And you haven't eaten anything."

"That's not true," she said, holding up a triangle of toast. About half of the crust had been nibbled away. It looked like a squirrel had stolen and returned it, hoping nobody would notice. "I'm just... taking it easy. I don't want to get fat."

"You're not fat," I insisted, staring in horror at her rapidly-cooling eggs. 

"I feel fat."

"What?"

"I don't know," she sighed, giving her bit of toast another halfhearted nibble. "I must be crazy, but I feel like you've lost twenty pounds since Monday. And Lee is so skinny, and pretty..." she trailed off.

It hit me like a half-pound of wasted cheesy eggs. "Is this about Lee somehow?"

"Is what about Lee?"

"You're moody, and quiet, and not eating anything. Does it have something to do with Lee? Because we're working together?" Beck had never shown much jealousy in the past, but then again I'd never expressed any interest in any other girls. It had just never come up.

Then again, I didn't remember expressing any interest in Lee, of all people.

"No. I don't know. Maybe."

"I don't know if you noticed, but she wasn't exactly fawning over me the other night."

"I know."

I rolled my eyes. "I hope you don't think I've got the hots for her or anything."

Beck was quiet for another minute, then gamely picked up her fork and took a small bite of her Wrecked Eggs. A good thing, too- I'd been considering stealing them. "I guess not. I just feel like you have a lot in common. More than you and me."

"Like what?" I asked, honestly bewildered. 

"Well, you're both in the Conclave, and you both work at the bookstore, and you're both really thin. And I'm sure there's other stuff."

I stared. "You think we have something in common because we're... skinny?"

"But you are!"

"That's just because we're both Conclave, the book burns fat somehow. Those guys the other night were both rails, too. Do you think I want to date them?"

"No, I guess not. Really, the book makes you thinner?"

"Yeah, every time you Read from it, you lose some fat. Maybe muscle, too, and you get really hungry. It's like the book uses you as fuel for whatever you're doing."

"So when I get my Text, I'll be all skinny like you guys?"

"After a day or two, apparently. But Becky, you're already in really good shape, I don't-" I trailed off as she dug into her own breakfast.

I sighed. At least she was eating.

Reviews

[UponATyme]

Learned so much about them both in this chapter. I love the bait and switch. All the time I'm thinking she's up to something because of the text, and really she's just being female--a jealous b***h.

[Ness]

I really enjoyed this chapter! You set the scene of the restaurant very well and made Trick's and Beck's personalities come out, as you usually do. Great job :)