Short story, first revision.

Thanks to the J man for his assistance. Should have done this a lot sooner, but hey. Still feel that this story is really missing something, so it probably will end up as a fragment of a larger story. But maybe in a few more months I'll tinker with it again, and we'll see what happens.

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The waitress tapped her pen against her chin and smiled.

“You both want the usual, yeah?”

The young woman nodded. He also gave her a single nod. Usually he would say a little something, maybe a joke, or asking how the waitress how her day was going. Not this time. Not now.

“That'd be great, thanks,” he said. Off to the kitchen went the waitress wondering if that wasn't a twinge of nervousness she heard in his voice, and also why he wasn't so talkative today.

His friend was giving him a sidelong glance. A quizzical look, lips parted as if to speak. But she restrained herself. She knew him, could read him all too well.

He sipped some water from a plastic stemmed cup. An earthy flavor permeated the water. I'm not going to find my resolve in this cup. If I explain everything, I can shake this sense of being lost. Get some direction. Move on with my life.

“What's wrong?” his friend finally asked. “You've been kind of quiet since we got here.”

She leaned forward, head tilted, as if to get a better look not just into his eyes, but beyond. Her gaze was met only by weary brown eyes looking back at her. Whatever he was seeking was not found in her almond shaped green eyes, or her gently bobbling locks of blonde hair.

He knew he couldn't mask his feelings well. Whatever he thought, he wore on his face. She'll try to figure it out, coax out of me whatever is bothering me.

“Is it that girl at work?” she searched. “How are things going with her? You talk to her yet? I don't think you said anything about her the last time we had lunch. You better not be giving up again!”

She smiled. He knew this look, and he should have felt comfortable, relaxed even. She was teasing gently, just trying to get him to open up.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, her,” he trailed off into a mumble. A pressure was building inside his chest, anxiety threatening to suffocate him at any moment if he didn't remember to breathe. Control, I need control. Collect my thoughts and just breathe.

He looked around the restaurant for something to focus on. The floor, the walls, nothing caught his attention, but for the moment it hurt less than looking into her eyes.

Inhale. Deep breath.

“I don't ah, I don't know if things would have worked out with her. Heard from a few that she's a little too serious. The one person in the room that doesn't laugh at the joke that everyone else laughs at. Smart as all hell, but, I, you know, I want someone with a sense of humor. Someone upbeat. Too bad. She is kind of cute.”

Exhale.

She looked away. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see him turn his gaze back to her. She felt a tension dripping from almost every word he spoke. The how of it was unanswerable, just an indelible feeling emanating from his person. An almost imperceptible change in the timbre of his voice. A slight staccato punctuating each sentence. It was so hard to tell. But it was there. And the why, she sensed, would not make things better. The girl from his work? Not what he wanted to talk about.

“Now you're the quiet one,” he sighed.

“Just thinking,” she mused. “Hey, we've known each other for a long time. I know there's something gnawing at you. Just spit it out, you'll feel so much better. You always do.”

She bit her lip.

His sight wandered again off into the distance. He knew that she only bit her lip when feeling conflicted. Every rational thought coursing through his head told him to stop. How did it come to this, anyhow? Is it because familiarity breeds contempt? Or comfort? So that I want to cross that line now. Or at least just say how I feel. And here I've been waiting for this moment, this opportunity, and it feels like it's all wrong.

A light switch flicked off inside his head. All of these thoughts were gone. Emotion took over and gave rise to hope. Just a sliver, but enough to make him press on.

Where to start? “I guess lately I've been wondering,” he sputtered, “what things would have been like if we'd met under different circumstances. You know, if you had been single and um, that sort of thing. It's silly, I know.”

“Okay. And that's what's been bothering you?”

“Well, not quite all of it.” Too far. Too far. Just finish it. Get it out of the way. What was I thinking? Hoping for? Just spit it out and pray it's okay. “I love you.”

The pressure in his chest was released at last. Now replaced by a pounding in his head, the audible rush of blood flowing through his temples preventing him from looking into her eyes. Slowly, painfully he lifted his gaze to her face.

What have I done?

She sat in silence. Staring at him intently.

The waitress dropped two plates off at the table. The heavy atmosphere was enough to send the waitress shuffling off to another table without a word.

The pounding in his head ceased. He still felt a little flush, but otherwise fine. His mind at least felt more calm. Soothed. Although there would be no telling how long that would last. When regret would sink in, with the realization that he had damaged a cherished friendship.

He felt a need to explain himself. “There's just something about seeing you every week. I've always had feelings for you. And I guess while I know better than to expect anything, I thought maybe you'd understand.”

“I do. It's why we're friends in spite of your wanting more. I just don't understand, though, why you had to say it.”

She smiled sadly, and picked up her fork.