darker-skinned than their companions on
the sidewalk, he studied more closely. Most of them were rather
generically attractive, the same way the women were -- there was at
least one or two things about them that could be complicated, and
some more than others. But even among the ones who were, there was
nothing about them that really compelled him to keep watching; he
studied one and found his eyes sliding away to the next before he
really felt he could comfortably describe any of them. It wasn't
like looking at Dirk's face sidelong, curious and annoyed about
that easy toothy smile, or the fascination of his long graceful
fingers at work, in the kitchen or on Haley's body ...
A dish half-clattered before him, startling him out
of his thoughts. He looked up at the waitress, whose expression was
bored again.
"There you go, pancake breakfast," she said. She eyed
his cup. "I'll get you more juice."
Simon nodded, looking down at his plate. The pancakes
looked rather mournful, pale yellow at their edges and barely brown
in the center, already drowned in a puddle of pale syrup and
crowned by a generous scoop of butter. The bacon was thick but
light-brown in color, half-submerged under the flood of syrup as
well. The eggs were a meager little pile, nearly the same pale
yellow color as the pancakes. "Um. Thank you."
He looked up and found the waitress already gone.
With a sigh he picked up his fork, prodding at the pancakes; they
almost certainly weren't going to be as good as the ones Dirk had
made. He cut himself a small triangle with the edge of his fork,
watching as the waitress reappeared, carrying a fresh glass of
juice to be switched out with his half-empty one. She didn't bother
to try with small talk again, sweeping away to the front of the
restaurant.
Simon ate his meal slowly. The pancakes tasted doughy
and thick, sticking to his mouth and throat even as he chewed and
swallowed. The bacon was salty and eggs had no flavor; he gave up
before the plate was even half empty, pushing it away and bringing
his cup closer to nurse its dregs. Really, he wasn't even
surprised; he wasn't hungry enough to be eager for a second
breakfast, and it was enough like the one Dirk had made to fall
embarrassingly short. He leaned against the wall again, so that his
head rested lightly against the glass, again watching people go
past.
They all looked so happy, he
thought. Even the ones who weren't smiling walked with apparent
purpose, and even those going at a slower pace didn't seem to be
dragging their feet so much as casually taking their time. He
envied them about that ease; he was fairly certain that even if he
did leave the diner and go for a walk, his own black mood would
bring down the collective attitude of the area by at least ten
degrees.
He brought his glass up, resting his lip on the rim.
If Haley could see him right now, he thought, she would probably
laugh -- or she would be annoyed; maybe she would yell at him to
stop being so wrapped up in himself and pay attention to the rest
of the world. What was she doing right now? She'd gone back to the
house, and she'd promised that they would be there all day. Maybe
they wouldn't have done anything when he was around out of
deference (though that certainly hadn't stopped them before), but
now that he was out of the house, who knew ...
Simon closed his eyes and thought about the pale arch
of Haley's back, and the dark splay of Dirk's fingers on her hips.
He thought about Haley's sweet sleepy smile when he'd gone to wake
her, and the confident grin on Dirk's face as he'd put together
breakfast. He turned different scenarios in his head over and over,
but still couldn't find a place for himself to slot in. There was
just no room for it, not without seriously disturbing one or the
other or both of them.
"You want more juice?"
He opened his eyes. The waitress was standing by his
table, her arms crossed. She was looking at his half-full plate,
but when he moved, she glanced at him
the sidewalk, he studied more closely. Most of them were rather
generically attractive, the same way the women were -- there was at
least one or two things about them that could be complicated, and
some more than others. But even among the ones who were, there was
nothing about them that really compelled him to keep watching; he
studied one and found his eyes sliding away to the next before he
really felt he could comfortably describe any of them. It wasn't
like looking at Dirk's face sidelong, curious and annoyed about
that easy toothy smile, or the fascination of his long graceful
fingers at work, in the kitchen or on Haley's body ...
A dish half-clattered before him, startling him out
of his thoughts. He looked up at the waitress, whose expression was
bored again.
"There you go, pancake breakfast," she said. She eyed
his cup. "I'll get you more juice."
Simon nodded, looking down at his plate. The pancakes
looked rather mournful, pale yellow at their edges and barely brown
in the center, already drowned in a puddle of pale syrup and
crowned by a generous scoop of butter. The bacon was thick but
light-brown in color, half-submerged under the flood of syrup as
well. The eggs were a meager little pile, nearly the same pale
yellow color as the pancakes. "Um. Thank you."
He looked up and found the waitress already gone.
With a sigh he picked up his fork, prodding at the pancakes; they
almost certainly weren't going to be as good as the ones Dirk had
made. He cut himself a small triangle with the edge of his fork,
watching as the waitress reappeared, carrying a fresh glass of
juice to be switched out with his half-empty one. She didn't bother
to try with small talk again, sweeping away to the front of the
restaurant.
Simon ate his meal slowly. The pancakes tasted doughy
and thick, sticking to his mouth and throat even as he chewed and
swallowed. The bacon was salty and eggs had no flavor; he gave up
before the plate was even half empty, pushing it away and bringing
his cup closer to nurse its dregs. Really, he wasn't even
surprised; he wasn't hungry enough to be eager for a second
breakfast, and it was enough like the one Dirk had made to fall
embarrassingly short. He leaned against the wall again, so that his
head rested lightly against the glass, again watching people go
past.
They all looked so happy, he
thought. Even the ones who weren't smiling walked with apparent
purpose, and even those going at a slower pace didn't seem to be
dragging their feet so much as casually taking their time. He
envied them about that ease; he was fairly certain that even if he
did leave the diner and go for a walk, his own black mood would
bring down the collective attitude of the area by at least ten
degrees.
He brought his glass up, resting his lip on the rim.
If Haley could see him right now, he thought, she would probably
laugh -- or she would be annoyed; maybe she would yell at him to
stop being so wrapped up in himself and pay attention to the rest
of the world. What was she doing right now? She'd gone back to the
house, and she'd promised that they would be there all day. Maybe
they wouldn't have done anything when he was around out of
deference (though that certainly hadn't stopped them before), but
now that he was out of the house, who knew ...
Simon closed his eyes and thought about the pale arch
of Haley's back, and the dark splay of Dirk's fingers on her hips.
He thought about Haley's sweet sleepy smile when he'd gone to wake
her, and the confident grin on Dirk's face as he'd put together
breakfast. He turned different scenarios in his head over and over,
but still couldn't find a place for himself to slot in. There was
just no room for it, not without seriously disturbing one or the
other or both of them.
"You want more juice?"
He opened his eyes. The waitress was standing by his
table, her arms crossed. She was looking at his half-full plate,
but when he moved, she glanced at him
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