Page 21 of Take You

“Yeah I drink. Wine works for me, if it works for you. You choose. I’m easy. I mean, when it comes to drinks.” Send. Help. Even the server couldn’t get away fast enough, once Kane had chosen the wine, the situation was so squeamishly awkward.

“Umm... that was... Anyway, so back to the phone thing. Why tell me? I did call you, so you were off the hook.”

“Yeah, maybe, but not really. The call is there for you to see, and I didn’t want to start things off with a lie, then have to explain myself later down the track.” So very sweet of him.

“So you transferred here mid-degree. That’s kind of a big deal. Had you always wanted to come here, or did you need a change of scene, or something?”

The new subject seemed like a bolt from the blue, and kind of jarred with the conversation we’d just been having. The not-so-subtle segue also didn’t fit his previously smooth demeanor. What the fuck? It was like one of those prank shows where they made the person wear an earpiece then fed them weird lines to say throughout the conversation.

The fact was, given everything that had happened in the preceding days, the last thing I wanted to talk about was myself, but there was no real way of telling Kane that without seeming like a total freak. Again. It was a date after all—we were supposed to talk about ourselves, and it was a perfectly legitimate question.

Not only that, but it was part of the reason I was even on the date in the first place. I’d freaked out after finding a bizarre and threatening card in my bag, that I was guessing was from “Mike,” and realized that, having not yet settled in, or met anyone apart from Kane, I had nobody to share my concerns with.

Not only that, but I didn’t even have anyone to chat with to help take the edge off my loneliness. I must have been mad to think that joining mid-program was a good idea. I’d never felt so alone in my life, and, given my history, that was really fucking saying something.

“I guess it was kind of a planned thing. I’d always wanted to come here, but it wasn’t to be, first time around, so I enrolled at the community college in Hillsborough and worked my ass off. I nailed every paper, and did every possible thing I could for extra credits, including just about every elective under the sun, holiday courses, you name it, I did it, and here I am.”

By way of a fellowship and a little sex work on the side. I omitted both from my explanation. They were things that I’d only share with anyone on a need to know basis. The impossibly hot, and alternately sweet and sexy Kane O’Neill did not need to know the ins and outs of my situation.

Once I’d steered the conversation away from myself and on to more neutral topics, time flew by. Kane was confident, charming and really fun to talk to, and we seemed to have some things in common, including a similar enough sense of humor to keep the conversation flowing with ease.

Things were going so well, in fact, that I didn’t really even register that we’d somehow sunk a second bottle of wine, until the server came to offer us a third. It was at that point that I decided it would probably be best for us to wrap up the night before I did something else to disgrace myself.

On the other hand, I really was grateful that, thanks to the easy company, I’d been able to momentarily forget the card burning a hole in my jacket pocket, with the image of blood spattered roses that would forever haunt my mind’s eye, and the words scrawled on it that would remain etched on into my memory for as long as I lived.

Rosies are red,

Cherries are too,

Don’t turn your back,

I’m coming for you.

Chapter 13

Kane

When I returned from the table having fixed up the bill, after pretty much strong-arming Rose into letting me pay, the haunted look from Tuesday was back in her eyes. Shit. I had no idea what had happened to put it there in the short time I’d been away from the table, but I wanted it gone. We’d been having a good time, and I needed it to stay that way.

“So, I know you said it was about time you were getting home, but I thought I’d make a suggestion, anyway.” I was standing behind my chair, having not sat back down after paying the bill.

“Hmm...?” She looked a little wary.

“Don’t look so alarmed. I was just going to say that my friends are across at Bar None, and I told them earlier that maybe I’d drop by when you and I were done. But I’m really not ready for our night to be over yet, so if you want to come with me, maybe we could have a nightcap?”

“And I’d meet your friends?” She looked like she’d rather rub wire wool doused in hot sauce into her eyes.

“Well, not necessarily. We could sit at another table. Or not. Your call. They’re nice guys. I mean, not “nice”, they’re... shit... forget I said anything, it was a bad idea. They’re assholes.” It was true. “What the fuck am I thinking?”

She would most probably take one look at the table of what most people would more than likely assume to be rich, dumb, frat boys, and run in the opposite direction. Not that I would necessarily blame her, and not that she’d be totally off base with that assessment of them. We were mostly well off, but we definitely weren’t the average frat boys.

“Oh really? Well now, of course, I want to go see what you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” I spread my arms out, as though to suggest I was an open book.

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it seems like you suddenly realized what you were offering, and tried to shut that shit down, stat.”

“It’s not like that at all.”

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