Page 43 of Chemistry: The Chemist

His words taunted me. His confidence aroused me. I clung to everything that came from his oversized lips which were incredibly soft against my center. I remembered them most because the few times that turned upward, they revealed dimpled cheeks and regularly serviced white teeth.

Maybe Mister was wrong, or only partially accurate in his assumption. It was him I was fascinated with, too, not only the thrill. Maybe it was because, for as long as I could remember, following the rules got me further than disobeying them.

Following the rules had given me more awards than my shelf could hold. Following the rules was rewarding, in my career and personal life. I was the only one of three children who actually followed the rules, which was evident in the differences between my siblings and me.

Following the rules made my parents proud time and time again because if I didn’t, their children would only be the source of sore memories. I had to follow the rules. I had to make them smile, for my siblings' sake. For our parents' sanity. I was the only hope.

But, rebellion, it felt so damn good. Too good, almost. I pushed out warm, pent-up frustrations as I continued gawking at the business across the way. My skin pimpled at the possibilities of my night if all went as planned.

It’s not Prime House, but it will suffice, I reasoned, shoving a hand in my black jeans as I began to pace from one end of the loft to the other, searching my contacts for the newest addition.

Dyson. He’d insisted on entering his number in the event I was ready for the night of my life. He was oblivious, hardly understanding I’d already experienced it. To my despair, the man who’d provided it had been missing ever since.

Tonight, he’d be the replacement. A medium-well steak and attention from a new stranger I’d met during work hours would keep my mind occupied and off him long enough to breathe again I supposed. Or, somehow summon the beast. Either, I was willing to accept, but the ladder had moisture forming on the seat of my panties.

Winters in Clarke were unpredictable. On this particular, late winter’s night, temperatures were in the high seventies. The rain had dampened the streets, leaving such a muggy cast and prominent scent across the city.

I strolled into Blanche Steakhouse in a black satin number swayed with each move I made. Because the weather was perfect, I left the winter wear home and exchanged it for the strappy piece and platform sandals that matched its sex appeal.

With my chin upward, I searched for the bar, where Dyson claimed to have been waiting for the last six minutes. That’s how long it took me to get from my complex to the doorstep of Blanche. Before I walked out of my door and wasted a look, I needed to make sure he’d be there.

I noticed the meaty fella almost immediately. His eyes were pinned against me, mentally stripping me of the few fabrics that graced my skin. I approached with an extended hand and a smile that felt unreal. Being in any man’s presence other than the one who had left a lasting impression on me all those nights ago felt degrading. I swallowed the lump I’d caught in my throat.

“Eden,” I introduced myself, deciding it was probably better than my stage name since our setting had changed.

“Real name.” He chuckled. “We’ve made progress already.”

“Possibly.”

“Our table is ready. Decided to grab a drink before I took off and it was too hard for you to find me. It’s a packed house tonight.”

“I see.”

Dyson tossed the rest of his drink back, allowing the alcohol to burn the back of his throat before slamming the glass on the bar top. I followed him, weary of my surroundings suddenly.

My eyes disconnected with the handsome man who’d been waiting for my arrival and began scanning parts of the restaurant that were visible to me. An unsettling feeling coiled my stomach, knotting it with a pang that was incredibly uncomfortable.

I could feel my brows hunch in disarray. I could feel my eyes roaming the openness with speed, carefully documenting each face. I could feel my heart rate increase. I could feel the atmosphere shift. I could feel everything around me slowly blur until finally we reached our table.

He’s here.

I hadn’t laid an eye on him, but his presence was that potent. I could feel him even though I couldn’t see him. Hairs on the nape of my neck stood first. The rest followed, brushing against my dress as I sat down.

Dyson never pulled out his chair. He never joined me. Instead, he stood beside me, peering down at me as his fingers traced a circle on my shoulder. My attention was divided until I realized his hand was on me and he was saying something I should probably hear.

“I’m going to the restroom. I’ll be right back, aight?”

I closed my eyes, trying to calm my raging heart. My head lifted and fell twice. “Okay.”

When I was alone, I unsealed my eyelids, imagining he’d be right there. Right before me. Across the table, with curious, angered eyes, suggested he wasn’t pleased with the choices I’d made.

Fuck. He wasn’t. All that occupied the seat across from me was air. Mister was nowhere in sight.

I’m going mad, I admitted. That man is not here and he’s probably not even thinking about me right now.

I shook my head clear of the haze and picked up the glass of water in front of me. With my other hand, I grabbed the menu to begin reviewing the night’s selections.

Enjoy your night, Egypt.

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