All I Ever Wanted

Chapter 2

Flashback:

The sweet smell of lemon from my grandparent's oven wafted through the house, and I closed my eyes in anticipation of my cake coming out in just a few minutes.

The front door slammed shut, and I winced at the sound. When I looked up at the doorway, Klay was standing there with a huge grin on his face.

"You're baking."

"Yes, I am," I said with a smile as I continued to work on one of the sketches in my book, "what are you doing here?"

He moves around the kitchen counter and nudges my shoulder with his before whispering in my ear. "You're cooking."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Yes, but you didn't know that until you walked in."

He looks at me sheepishly.

"Actually, I could smell it from down the street. So, here I am."

The timer went off, and I quickly got up and walked over to the oven to pull it out. What I saw when I opened the oven door caused me to scream, which alerted Klay.

"Logan! Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, but I didn't respond.

I turned around and frowned at him as I held my flattened cake in my hands.

Klay stared down at it as if it was an alien. "Where's the rest of it?"

"You killed my cake when you slammed the front door."

He stood there silently as I set my one inch thick cake onto a plate to cool off. It looked awful. It was so small.

"You are a cake murderer," I murmmered as I glared at him, and suddenly the room was filled with his laughter. I hit his shoulder playfully and tried glare at him, but I laughed too, and we sunk down onto the floor laughing together.

"Maybe it tastes better than it looks?"

I rolled my eyes at him but grabbed two forks anyways.

"I guess we'll find out."

End flashback

He is so easy to spot amongst the other guests in the large french restaurant, it is almost comical. Everyone is whispering amongst themselves about the infamous shooting guard sitting at the circular table in front of the large glass window overlooking the city. The funny thing is, I don't think he even realizes how much attention he is getting right now. Whatever he is holding in the palm of his right hand is capturing his focus.

So much so that he doesn't even know that I am standing across from him at the other side of the table.

"Hi," I say quietly, and he closes his palm shut and quickly snaps his dark brown eyes to look up at me.

"You came," he whispers, almost in disbelief, and I nod my head as I go to pull out my black cushioned chair.

Before I can even pull it out halfway, Klay is up from his seat and pulling my chair out for me.

"Thank you," I say as I sit down and set my purse on my lap. To get through this breakfast, I'm definitely going to need something to fidget with. The things this man makes me feel.

Once he is sitting back down across from me, an awkward silence ensues.

What am I supposed to say? I'm not the one who ended our friendship. I don't know anything about the guy sitting across from me right now. Whoever Klay Thompson is now, he definitely isn't the boy I once knew.