She chuckles and tips her glass up to finish the rest of the red liquid inside, unfazed. “Got an answer for everything, don’t you?”
“The sooner you learn that, the better.” I flag our waiter, hoping Ella doesn’t notice how much I’m struggling not to smile back at her. I’m having a dangerously pleasant evening. It’s probably best that I cut this short now.
But instead of ordering the check, I order us another round of drinks.
“Rhokar! I’ve already had two glasses, I think that’s enough for me.”
I shrug and drain the last of my beer. “Don’t finish it, then. I don’t care.” Mind. I should have said I don’t mind.
I glance at her again as I finish up and lean back, surveying the completely cleaned plates, including her own. She ate plenty, I made sure of that. Something deep inside me settles with satisfaction at this knowledge.
“Why were you eating Lunchables for dinner,” I ask, unable to get the topic off my mind. “You can’t be that poor, I’m paying you a small fortune.”
“And I’m worth every penny,” she bites back without a moment of hesitation. But her blue eyes are sparkling with good humor, and when the waiter serves us our drinks, she takes another happy sip. “I’ve just been busy. It’s not a big deal.”
“You didn’t have leftovers from yesterday?”
She shrugs. “I’ve been eating the same thing all week.”
My face immediately pulls into a frown. I don’t like the idea of her not being looked after. “Don’t do that again. Eat properly.”
“Or else what? You’ll kidnap me again?”
“If that’s what it takes,” I growl. But instead of hitting me with a sharp retort, her lips spread into another soft smile, and she tilts her head to the side, swirling her glass of red as her hair shifts back to expose her neck.
“Okay. It’s a date.”
I grab my beer, and glare at it. “It’s not a date.”
What is she doing? Is she playing some sort of game with me? This behavior is the complete antithesis of our every interaction so far, and if she is playing…she’s going to win.
I’m coming to realize I’m a much weaker orc than I thought I was, because I’m not fighting very hard to stop her.
“Why are you being so pleasant?” I ask suddenly, gruffly, as if my subconscious is in charge of my speech instead of the very conscious, very prominent part of me which demands that I should be paying the bill and leaving immediately without another word spoken.
She snorts into her wine at my words, spluttering and laughing at the same time while she quickly lifts her napkin to cover her mouth.
“I’m serious,” I growl, as a red-skinned teifling couple walks past us with their two kids. “You’re…scaring the children.”
“Oh my god, Rho…” She finishes wiping her lips, still giggling, and the sound is making something stir in my chest that I don’t know how to name. “You’re kind of an odd one, aren’t you?”
“Just answer the question,” I sigh, suddenly feeling drained. I don’t want to play games. I’m sick of second guessing myself, since I clearly don’t have a track record of correctly interpreting the intentions of women. I’d rather she just tell me what’s going on so I can understand, pack the situation away, and go back to my favorite pastime of ignoring her.
Except that’s not exactly true, is it? A quiet voice slithers through my thoughts. You’ve been avoiding her, but you’ve been doing anything but ignoring her. There’s a difference…
“I’m not doing anything!” she exclaims when my only response is to continue glaring at her.
“You’re smiling.”
“Oh, dear, I am so very sorry for exposing you to such a horror.”
“You haven’t smiled since…you first started working for me.”
“I’m responding to you, you giant monster of a jerk!”
She rolls her eyes, and I lift my mug, before thunking it back down without taking a drink. “What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means?”