First Kiss: The Ghost Bird Series: #10 (The Academy Ghost Bird Series) by C. L. Stone

my hands than actually drinking it. Still, I tried a sip, and the flavor was bitter to me. I did my best to press my lips together in an attempt to mask my soured expression.
    He poured himself a cup and then another one, placing it near the third bento box.
    I looked around us again, back toward the shore and toward where he had parked, expecting someone else to arrive.
    He passed over a couple of thick cloth napkins. I suspected they were to replace paper napkins that could blow away in the breeze.
    When everything was laid out, he settled back and opened his box.
    I opened mine, finding small pieces of fried chicken, bite-sized to eat with a fork, along with potato salad and diced peaches in the other compartments.
    He held his box close to his chest, and picked out a piece of chicken, looking at me and waiting.
    I sensed he wanted me to eat first, so I chose a piece of chicken and began to eat it. It was white breast meat and was tasty, despite being cold.
    Once I’d taken a bite, he began to eat too. I couldn’t think of what to say, so I focused on the food, enjoying the comforting tastes in an otherwise very curious situation.
    The entire time, I waited for someone else to arrive, but no one ever did. He never looked for a third person behind him to arrive, but also seemed to ignore the place setting for the third person. He hadn’t set out a water for the person, just the tea.
    I finally realized no one ever was ever going to arrive for the food and a haunted feeling washed over me, wondering who it was for, but not daring to ask. As we ate, I occasionally glanced at the third set. I shifted as I sat, uncomfortable and feeling out of place.
    When there was nothing left to eat, I sipped at my water until Mr. Blackbourne was finished.
    When he did finish, he put his empty box down and sipped at his tea, looking out over the lake. I did as well, getting lost in watching the water lapping against the shore. In the distance, bare trees stuck out over the water. Without a strong wind, all was still. The gentlest of sparkling light reflected against the water, despite the light covering of clouds overhead.
    After a while, the silence between us became less awkward and I felt myself relax. Feeling like we were almost meditating, the quiet trance-like, I was aware of my full stomach, the cool, crisp air, the nice park surrounding us, and his close, silent company.
    It was an hour before he finally sat up, having shifted to sitting cross-legged after lunch. He collected the empty boxes and forks and emptied my unfinished tea into the water.
    The lunch for his third person, our invisible guest, he simply slid aside to sit on the dock, while he collected the other items. I stood and helped him collect the blanket which he refolded and put it back in the basket.
    We walked away from the dock, leaving behind the paper items and the food. I imagined animals and bugs would be by to eat what was left over, and the paper items he used wouldn’t hurt the environment, being biodegradable. Isn’t it still bad to leave it behind? 
    With my tongue glued inside my mouth, I followed him back to the car. I recalled something from Japanese class, where Dr. Green once talked about how the Japanese often left food for those who have passed away on different event days just for their ancestors. Leaving behind purchased or homemade bento, fruit, or other items.
    But wasn’t the food left at grave sites?
    Mr. Blackbourne was doing something similar but had added his own twist to the tradition. For whatever reason, on his birthday, this is what he wanted to do.
    I waited while he placed the basket back into the trunk and shut it.
    He walked around to the passenger side, and I followed, presuming he was going to open the door for me.
    Instead, he stopped at the back door, and opened it, pulling out the gift. He held it in his hand, looking at it, tracing the gray paper and maroon-colored bow with a finger.
    I was compelled to break the silence,