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Wes met me the student commons around 7:30 the next night. I wasn't wearing anything fancy but I made sure to not dress sloppy, knowing I wouldn't have time to change for him. I liked to think I wasn't trying to impress him, but I knew I was, even if I also knew it shouldn't- wouldn't- matter because it never did before. 

We walked to his car together and at one point I think he was about to put his arm around me but decided not to, which was odd because that wasn't like him. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pants pockets and kept walking next to me. It felt like he was trying to keep more distance between us than even I normally did. He was making me nervous.

"Where are you taking us?" I asked as I buckled my seatbelt.  

"Dinner. You like clam chowder right?"

"Yeah." I smiled.

"And you're still trying to find the best right?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"I know a place that's got the best in town." He grinned reaching his hand over but his smile faltered and so did his hand; he withdrew and placed it on the gear shift. It was bizarre, he'd never been shy before. I looked down at his hand which was now turned over on the center console, then at him. He was facing the road but his eyes found me and he smiled softly. Deciding not to think too much of his hesitance, I clasped my own hands in my lap.

I thought Wes would take me to a new restaurant, one that I hadn't tried yet. It's not like Wes keeps track of all of the new places I tried in those past four months and it wasn't like there was a whole lot of a selection, but he probably knew most of them, considering he would often ask to tag along with me and try them. I had already been to the restaurant of the parking lot he pulled into. It was a little shack looking restaurant on the wharf. I let out a laugh.

"What?" he asked me with a smile.

"This is the best in Rhode Island?"

His face dropped. "Yeah, do you not like it?"

"No, no," I tried to correct myself. "It's just I've been here and I thought it was too watery?" I smiled. "It's okay, though, I don't have to have chowder. It wouldn't hurt to try something else."

I watched a small smile spread across his face causing my own to widen. "Okay, so you're okay with eating here?"

"Absolutely."

Wes nodded as we got out of the car. He reached his hand out like he wanted to take mine but scratched behind his ear instead.

He's weird. Why is he acting weird?

Stop questioning it, Vienna. We all know if he grabbed your hand you would be uncomfortable too,

Yeah, but look at him. He's all jittery and nervous.

He definitely likes you, you're just paranoid and a little more flighty than usual. 

But he's never like this. You don't want him to be uncomfortable. His discomfort is making you anxious and just as uncomfortable for him. 

Wes held the door open for me as I stepped in. The inside of the restaurant was larger than it looked from the outside. It was also a lot nicer too, part of the reason I liked it so much. A woman sat us at a  table in the middle of the restaurant and took our drink orders.

"Can we talk about the other night-"

"Let's start with something simple first, please," I said cutting him off before we could start a conversation about how clearly we feel for each other.

"Okay," Wes said slowly. "Why are you so obsessed with chowder?"

I smiled. "Who wouldn't be? It's only the best soup ever. Of course, you have to make it right." 

"I think tomato soup is the best."

I laughed. "Of course, you would."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

I pursed my lips teasingly and shook my head as I looked down at the menu, searching for something to eat other than chowder. "No one here seems to know how to make it the same, though."

"The same as who?"

"Not who. Where. San Francisco, it has the most delicious clam chowder you will ever find. A nice hot bread bowl of creamy clam chowder on a windy dock on the bay." I closed my eyes and smiled, reminiscing of my many nights in the city. "Nothing beats it."

"I doubt it," he teased.

"Nope, it's true."

"So you would rather have a bowl of chowder than go on a date with me?"

I looked up from my menu. He was still flirting and I loved it. I liked how he teased me but knew when to stop, and how he was understanding but made sure his demands were met too. He liked me, that was clear, but he expected things from me too; he wasn't going to allow this to be one sided. That didn't mean I was ready to start pitching in.

Wes was staring at me intently, smirking waiting for my response. "Nothing beats it," I said with a coy smile.

"Prove it," he said with a small glint in his eyes.

"How do you expect me to do that? Have them ship some over for us?" I asked breaking into a grin. It was starting to look like just another one of our lunch outings.

"I guess you'll just have to show me around someday," he smirked. The flirting was always there, but now I knew it was genuine. It was barefaced and striking. Wes truly wanted me to show him around my home one day the thought scared me to the point where my joints were aching to stand and walk away. 

Luckily, a bread basket that was placed between us and instead of responding to Wes, I gave my attention to it. Quickly, I grabbed a piece and a plate, pouring some balsamic vinegar onto it for dipping.

"What can I get for you two tonight?" The waitress asked.

"The clam chowder," Wes answered.

"I'll have the fried calamari and salad combo."

"Ew," Wes said, childishly.

"Do that again and I'll make you eat one," I warned him with a smile. "And not the pretty ones that just look like rings, I'll make you eat one of the pieces with all the curly legs and such."

"No, thank you," Wes shook his head.

"Then shut up."

When the waitress left I began to eat my oil soaked bread again but Wes didn't even give me time to chew before he was talking. "Val, I just think-"

"Do you ever shut up?" I asked with a hand over my mouth because I was still chewing.

"What?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad thing and I like talking to you and listening to you, but don't you think it'd be nice to just shut up and enjoy a person's company?"

"Isn't that kind of... awkward? I mean, we're on a date. Do you want me to just stare at you the whole time? Because I'd love to." Wes let a smile creep onto his face. "But, I like listening to you talk." I watched as his hand darted across the table towards my hand but at the last second, he grabbed the bottle of olive oil. "You don't always share much so I try to take as much as I can from you."

"You haven't heard anything from me that I haven't wanted to share."

"I'm glad for that."

"You aren't taking anything from me nor I from you," I emphasized, suddenly feeling like there were conditions I hadn't seen before.

"I know, Val. I've given everything to you because I want you to have it. I want you to feel like I'm not going to walk away, because, for some reason, you have this idea that I'm going to get bored or something and I don't really understand it. Someone broke you down but you don't have to stay that way."

I leaned forward suddenly. "You can't fix me!" I hissed.

"Woah," Wes raised his hands, looking at me worriedly. "Val, I didn't mean-"

"I know," I leaned back and looked away, embarrassed. "I know, it's just that, you can't. My childhood will not disappear with your kind words and you sweet, sweet smiles will not take away a past love." I smiled fondly for him. "Your words will do nothing to change the past and what it means to me. Sometimes you need to learn to just shut up because, yes, I'm still bleeding and I'm still licking my wounds, that much is clear, but all you can do for me is sit with me and rub my back or pat my head or some shit like that. That's all I want from you. Actually, that is everything I need from you for now."

"You've told me what's happened and I see it's making you push me away all the time. They beat you down, broke you."

I shook my head from side to side. "You've got it wrong, Wes. Those people didn't break me down, they are what built me up. These walls are calluses- scar tissue. You-" I reached the table and with all the shaky courage I could muster, I grabbed his hand. Wes looked like he'd never see hands before when he looked up at me. His shock was quickly replaced by his adorable grin. I couldn't help but smile too. "You are what is going to break them down." 

Even before the words left my mouth, I knew they were something I must have read in a book because they were much too cheesy for real life. But they were far from false. "I know," I said before he could. "It sounds like a load of bull."

His lips perked up, and I blushed, shaking my head and attempting to pull my hand away but he held it firmly. "No." He shook his head adamantly. 

"No, it does. It really does but I mean it because... well, they did break me, Wes. I forgot I was worth something. It's why I moved and it's why I'm alone."

"You're not-"

"I am," I said firmly. "But it's okay now."

"Okay," Wes said taking my hand in both of his and holding my gaze, "so you built up your walls. They stand tall and firm, unyielding ready to take on whatever and whoever comes at you. They are your protection. And those walls may be there to protect you but that won't last forever. They aren't meant to be permanent."  

Wes squeezed my hand firmly, with an emotion and intention I was afraid to ever share. Light danced in his eyes as he stared at me, his skin blushing as his hand warm, but I didn't pull away. I watched closely as a thousand emotions passed over his face. I couldn't name a single one. "Why'd you do that?" He whispered.

"Do what?" 

"Grab my hand?"

Mortified, I tried to pull my hand back again.

"I didn't say you shouldn't have." Wes' grip on my hand held firm.

"Well, it didn't seem like you were ever going to do it, and the timing seemed appropriate."

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to grab my hand. Wondered if you would at all."

"You were testing me?" I scowled.

"No. It's just that, I'm always the one making the first move- except in bed-" he grinned making me blush, "and you usually pull away. I just wanted to see how bold you were yet."

"So it was a test?"

"An experiment," he corrected.

"Don't test me, Artwood."

"Fine, would you rather I start just randomly grabbing your hands, and hugging you, and-"

"You do that already," I laughed, taking my hand back as I leaned back in my chair.

"Then I guess there's no problem." He grinned.

"Wes?"

"Hmm?"

"Is this weird to you?"

"This date?" I nodded my confirmation and he continued with a sigh. "Yeah, a little. I think you're giving the word 'date' too much credit, letting it get you. I- I'm just letting you get to me." He grinned through his own embarrassment. "The idea of being on a date with you, Vienna, is quite nerve wracking. I'm sweating."

"I know, your hands were kind of clammy," I smiled, biting my lip. He widened his eyes, and I could see he was rubbing his palms on his pants under the table. "I don't mind, though. You can hold my hand anytime."

He gave me a dashing grin, his nerves forgotten and my fears subsiding. It wasn't the kind of ease that lasted but I'd learned to appreciate it while it did. There was plenty of times for debate and hesitation. Dinner wasn't one of those times.

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