Letterman Jacket

22.5 / twenty-nine days before

Just a block away from the mall, Pete and Katy's was a famous and cozy diner sandwiched between commercial enterprises at the heart of the city. Nico sat across from me, drumming his fingers nervously on the table as I leaned against the wall of the booth, biting my lip. "This really isn't necessary, you know."

"I know, I wanted to," he said through a clenched jaw, tipping his chin towards the menu in front of me. "Pick something to go with the milkshakes."

"Your mother literally just fed me a few hours ago."

"That was a few hours ago. I can hear your stomach rumbling from here. Pick."

Sighing at the demand, I mumbled something about just wanting soup with a vanilla milkshake. Nico rolled his eyes before calling a waiter.

"We'll have two orders of your sliders and one of the bacon and cheese fries. Two vanilla milkshakes," he snapped, handing the poor guy the menu who tried to rapidly write it down before scurrying away.

I frowned. "You didn't have to be so rude."

"I wasn't being rude, I—never mind."

I didn't know what else to say. His stare made me a squirm so I made myself busy by playing with my fingers on my lap and keeping my eyes downwards.

A few minutes of silence passed before I spoke again. "About the scarf..."

Nico cleared his throat loudly and looked away. "That's, uh, I'd rather not talk about that..."

"I just wanted to say thank you," I rushed out, feeling my cheeks heat up. "And I'm sorry for bringing it to the lost and found."

Nico nodded. "You didn't know. I had an...unusual way of giving it to you."

I bit my lip. "What am I doing here, Nico?"

The hand that was resting on the table balled itself into a fist tightly as he exhaled heavily. "I don't know."

His answer made me even more confused.

"Look," Nico said through gritted teeth. "Thea, I want to fix whatever I've messed up. I'm trying, but I don't know how."

I shook my head, strands of my hair falling across my face. "There's nothing to fix, Nico, okay? If you're lucky, Faust and I will most likely break up before college and you won't have to worry about me taking your best friend away anymore. You won't have to worry about my brother and I. I'm sure you won't see either of us again in a few months—"

"Stop," he breathed, shutting his eyes and drawing his brows together as if what I'd said physically pained him, both hands now fisted on the table. I cocked my head to the side, baffled with his reaction. "That's not what I—that's not what I want."

"Well, what do you want, Nico?" I asked, exasperated as I threw my hands in the air. "You said you hated me, and I backed away. When I did, you didn't want me to. Which is it?"

His eyes searched my face. He ran both hands through his hair as if wanting to pull them out, and rested themselves laced around the nape of his neck. Before he could answer, however, the waiter came back with our orders and set them on the table, but neither of us tore our questioning gazes from each other.

"Eat," Nico commanded, pushing the plate of sliders towards me.

It made me wonder if Nico even knew the answer to my question.