He leaned against the counter.
“You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn every conversation into a list of things I need to accomplish.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Someone has to make sure you don’t forget everything.”
He smiled faintly.
“Maybe I don’t want to have everything figured out yet.”
“Most people don’t at eighteen.”
“Do you think I should?”
I studied him.
“Honestly? I think you should give yourself permission to learn who you are before worrying about who everyone expects you to become.”
For a moment, he looked surprised.
Then he nodded.
“That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me all week.”
He picked up his coffee and left.
I watched him go, feeling an uncomfortable tenderness I didn’t want to examine.
That was the problem with Jake.
Sometimes he seemed less interested in impressing me than in being understood.
And I hadn’t realized how much I missed being understood myself.
