The diner was a typical old fashioned one, with a glowing jukebox in the back, cherry red booths and black and white checkered floors.

Only one other customer was seated, in which the middle aged man was quietly munching on a hamburger a few booths down from where Mr. Lee and I sat. It made sense for it to be so dead- hardly anybody would visit a diner on Halloween night. I couldn't help but wonder why the other customer was here.

"Have you noticed the difference in yourself?" Mr. Lee asked me, placing his elbows on each side of the table. I glanced out the window, pink and light purple colors patterned in the sky.

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning back to him, drinking in his matted down curls and scruffy jaw. His white shirt was wrinkled, and I couldn't help but notice that my tank top also looked gross and worn out.

Now my hair was a different story, and I had tried to run my hands through it during the car ride, but the frizziness remained.

I had been all sweaty from running, but now sitting near an air conditioning vent was giving me intense chills. I shivered and rubbed my arms to create warmth, finally settling my gaze back on Mr. Lee who looked immensely attractive.

"You talk to me," he said simply. "You hardly use your notepad anymore."

A rush of guilt overcame my senses. "I can use it more if you'd like-"

"No!" Mr. Lee said, a deep chuckle rumbling from his chest. "It's not a bad thing, Ms. Rose."

Please don't call me that, I thought to myself. It sounded so sensual coming from his lips. I shook my head, as if to shoo away the sexual energy that was radiating off this man. Did he have no idea what he was doing to me? How could he be so oblivious?

I opened my mouth to respond, but a waitress came over to my table and immediately I snapped my mouth shut.

"What do you guys want to drink?" The young, black-haired woman asked tiredly, a sigh coming afterwards. She obviously didn't want to be here.

Mr. Lee and I exchanged glances and immediately heat flooded to my cheeks. My heart lurched as I nervously searched for my notepad, realizing that I must have left it in his car. I helplessly looked at Mr. Lee.

"I'll have a burger and a beer," Mr. Lee said, scratching his jaw and looking back and fourth between the waitress and I, as if contemplating what to do.

"And you?" The waitress asked me.

I couldn't speak. To any person, it seems like such a simple task to utter a few unimportant words, but I still couldn't find it in me to just carelessly blurt them out. Truth be told, it scared me.

I shaped my hands into a cup and attempted to make it look like I was drinking from an imaginary straw.

"A smoothie?" Mr. Lee said more to me than the waitress. I shook my head quickly and tried again, but the only thing the both of us seemed to be getting out of it was laughter. Mr. Lee propped his elbow on the table and let his hand hover near his mouth, as if to cover his amused expression.

"A soda- no, a milkshake!" Mr. Lee yelled giddily, and I nodded as a burst of laughter erupted in my chest. I popped my hand over my mouth and glanced at the waitress, who looked completely unamused, to say the least.

"Um, what flavor?" She asked me. I turned to Mr. Lee again, my heart pounding furiously in my chest. Awkwardly, I pointed to the cherry red apron wrapped around her waist.

"Cherry?" Mr. Lee asked questionably.

I shook my head and pointed at it again, feeling the woman shooting daggers with her eyes.

"Strawberry!" Mr. Lee said fake enthusiastically. I bursted out laughing again at his parodic voice.

"And to eat?"

I started hysterically giggling when I realized that there was a menu leaning against the napkin holder. I collected myself and grabbed the menu, flipping the laminated pages for the grilled cheese. When my eyes finally fell upon the tiny picture, I pointed at it, and turned it around to show Mr. Lee.

"And a grilled cheese," Mr. Lee told the waitress, a childish glint in his beautiful eyes. A smile was still glued to his plump lips.

"F.ucking charades," she murmured, walking away with another loud sigh. That itself set us off, and I began laughing so loud that I had to place my head down on the windex-smelling table.

"I'm sorry," I breathed out while looking down at the table, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen from the laughter. "That was embarrassing."

Mr. Lee had quieted down. I glanced up at him, and his gaze was trained on my face, his head tilted to the side.

"I can help you, you know," he finally spoke. I gave him a questioning look.

"I can break you out of the shell you've put yourself in." His eyes swept across my fading smile.

"I don't need to talk in front of anybody else," I said stubbornly, directing my gaze at the man still munching on his burger.

"Look, it's October. Eight months from now, you will be graduating. You'll be moving on from this school to greater things and I'll be here. However, in order to accomplish those greater things, you've got to let people know you have that sweet voice of yours. A voice like that is not meant to be unheard."

Another blush crept into my already blazing cheeks. I shook my head, attempting to dismiss the thought that someday I wouldn't be able to see him anymore. I had no idea how to respond to that, so I kept silent.

"We can take the smallest steps in the world," he began again. "You'll be okay as long as you're taking them."

"How will you help me?" I asked, my voice small, sad even.

"We can start by saying thank you to the waitress when she gives us our food," he whispered, turning his head to look at the waitress who was holding a tray of both our meals plus the drinks.

"A-alright," I replied, already feeling the panic kicking in my chest like a child with a tantrum.

"Focus on me," he whispered, the waitress getting closer to the table.

"I-I can't do it," I yelped, pathetic tears welling in my eyes. "I can't."

"Sit by me. You'll be able to do it then," he said assuringly, eyeing the waitress that only had to take a few more steps until she reached our booth.

I quickly slid out of my side of the booth and cautiously walked over to the other side. Sliding next to him, I already felt the atmosphere change. My heart began to crazily hammer and my palms began to shake. I took multiple deep breaths, but came to the conclusion that it wasn't helping at all. His usual scent of mint overcame my senses, completely obliterating the greasy smell of the diner.

Mr. Lee leaned over, his chin brushing against my bare shoulder. "Just a thank you. That's it." His breath warmed the side of my face, and I found myself letting out a gasp of how great it felt. What the hell was wrong with me? How could I be so easily impacted by him?

When the woman reached our table, I instinctively grabbed Mr. Lee's large hand, and immediately his grip tightened in a comforting gesture. Warmth shot up my arm and I shuddered again. God, there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss him. I focused on his body heat- the way I wasn't shivering anymore from the air conditioning. My palm stopped shaking in his wonderful grip. What would it feel like to have his hands gripping on my hair like that?

Disgusted at my inappropriate thoughts, I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, as if that could erase the images I now had lingering in my head.

She placed the food down with another sigh, giving a kind of expression that anyone in this century would be able to understand, which clearly expressed a 'what the f.uck.'

He squeezed tighter in a signal for me to say something.

"T-thank you," I blurted out, and squeezed my eyes shut, not daring to see her probably judgmental glare.

Mr. Lee nudged me on the arm, but I kept my eyes closed shut.

"Open your eyes," he said hoarsely into my ear.

We were probably creating such a scene. I refused to open my eyes, although by now she had probably already walked away. I was beyond humiliated.

"Dammit," Mr. Lee muttered. He placed his hand on my thigh, and almost immediately my eyes shot open. Before I could glance down at his hand that was dangerously close to where I wanted him most, I noticed the waitress getting ready to walk away, a ghost of a smile on her lips.

It wasn't a mocking smile. It was a smile- a full out, thank-you kind of smile.

When she finally walked back to the kitchen, I let out a breath and Mr. Lee removed his hand.

"Why did she smile?" I asked him, glancing down at where his hand had been only seconds ago.

"These waitresses don't get thanked as much as they should. She appreciated it."

I sat there silently, letting the aroma of the grilled cheese ignite a rumble of hunger in my stomach. A soft smile decorated my lips, and I sat there, for once, feeling good about speaking to somebody that wasn't Mr. Lee. A complete stranger, might I add.

"My mother would be proud," I whispered out loud, still staring at my uneaten grilled cheese. Mr. Lee wasn't eating either, for he was studying me with a smile.

I killed my mother- well, technically. But today, I felt like it was alright to speak, and that she would want me to speak.

All those times, I've refused to speak because I felt that she wouldn't want that, but who was I kidding?

She cared about me whether or not I was the reason for her death. She wouldn't want me to be a mute.

Lost in thought, I began to silently eat, and we both sat there in the diner, the sky finally a shade of the darkest blue, the man finally leaving, leaving us two. As we ate, I let him silently mend my broken heart. Piece by piece, he was taping it back up and he didn't even realize it.