Page 18 of Played

She sighs, looking at the table, gaze averted. “It’s not that.” The hesitation is palpable. Freya really isn’t interested in me. Those gazes were imagined. That exchange months ago was my doing, not hers. “The show doesn’t start until one o’clock. I can do breakfast or an early lunch.”

I smile. “I feel like you’re grasping at straws, Freya.” I lick my lips. “If you’re not interested, you’re not interested. It’s cool.” There’s a sentence I’ve never used in my entire life. The feeling in the pit of my stomach is unnerving. I finally understand what rejection feels like.

“It’s not that, Ethan.” She sighs. And I feel like there’s something on the tip of her tongue, but she’s holding back. “Truly, it’s not.” Another hesitation. “There’s a pancake place just down the street from my house. Why don’t we meet there for nine o’clock tomorrow morning? We can have breakfast, and then I’ll have enough time to head back to my place and grab my things before returning here?”

“Are you sure?” I check.

“Absolutely.” She nods, eyes set. Face impassive.

“I’ll see you then.”

Freya’s outfit is as cute as hell, and I can’t stop looking at her, as she sits across from me, ordering her pancakes and coffee. She’s got a little skirt and shirt set on, and I can’t help but recognize the kilt-like appearance to the skirt. It’s complete with pleats and a large, metal safety pin off to the side. All that’s missing is a goddamn beret on her head, cocked to the side. Why her clear nod to her Scottish heritage is a turn-on to me, I don’t know, but it is. The little matching cashmere sweater is equally cute, as it accentuates her ample breasts. Lip gloss dabbed on those full lips, begging to be kissed off, is what is making me squirm under the table.

What’s more is as I’m ordering my breakfast, I can feel her gaze burning into me. I’m wearing smoke dress pants and a white linen shirt, rolled up halfway to my elbows. It’s a little dressier than I’m used to for a Sunday morning, but I’m going into the office after this, and under no circumstances are we allowed to show up there in street clothes, so this will have to do. Now, normally, I’d give a cheesy wink as I notice, but this time I don’t. Frankly, I don’t want to break the spell. As I pass the menu back to the waitress, Freya leans in. “She has eyes for you.” Her face is pink with jealousy. It’s as cute as sin.

“God, gross.” I shudder. “I touched her menu.”

Freya snorts a laugh. “I bet you did.”

I feel my face heat. The lasses usually don’t like it when I make a comment like that, but Freya seems amused. “Gross.”

Another snort. “Be sure to leave her a generous tip.”

“I think that’s more your job, lass. And your tip being, ‘don’t make a move on my date’.”

Freya laughs. “That is one thing I’ve never encountered before.”

“What, a date?”

She slaps me jokingly. “No.”

“Well, if it helps, you can pound on her a bit. I’ll watch. I’ll even provide the mud or the Jello.”

She laughs out loud. “Ethan! God, we’re about to eat!”

“Well, to be fair, I did say Jello.”

“God, you’re incorrigible.” She slaps my arm again, and I can’t help but feel her warm, soft hands against my skin. I like her touching me. And as I look at her, I can see that she likes touching me, too. Letting my brevity have the floor here, I wrap my hand around her forearm, just to see how she reacts. “You have banker’s hands, Ethan.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“I have them, too.” She says, placing her hand on my opposite forearm. “You tell me.”

Our eyes lock. “I think it’s good. Very soft. Warm.” I draw in a deep breath. “I figured you’d be shy. I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“I’m touching your arm, Ethan, not your cock.” She says, eyes dancing. As she says the word ‘cock’, my cock actually twitches.

I decide to lighten the mood. “Same difference.” But I can’t keep a straight face, and she can’t, either. We both burst out laughing.

She mewls. “If you’re that big, I’m outta here.”

“Not into horses, are you, lass.”

Another laugh, as the waitress brings our plates. “Jesus, that was fast.” I say out loud, not meaning to.

“We aim to please.” The waitress purrs.

I swallow, blinking obviously, shocked that she said that. “Thank you.”

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