Page 35 of Heathen

"Do you have to do that?"

"No," he says, holding his hands out wide as if the lap patting was the issue of concern.

"Why do you speak to me like that?"

His brows scrunch as if he's confused. "You don't want me flirting with you? It was all in good fun. I don't—"

"You call that flirting?"

"You call it something else?"

"Do you normally pick women up in bars or something?"

"Where else would I pick women up?"

I stare at him, a little dumbfounded.

"That actually works?"

He shrugs once again. "Usually."

"Wow," I mutter.

"Are you insulting all the women I've flirted with before?"

I tilt my head to the side, honestly doing a little speedy soul-searching to see where the offense is coming from.

"No," I say truthfully.

The irritation isn't on the women he has been with in the past. I don't think of them as dumb for falling for it. Ellis is stupidly handsome, and I imagine he's met women willing to place their hand in his and walk right out the door of a bar without a word, not even needing the sexualized flirting.

The problem is with myself and my inability to let loose even a little in order to accept someone as good-looking as him would be flirting with me in the first place.

I stare at the ceiling. The realization that my self-esteem is so damn low is like a slap to the face.

"What's that look for?" he asks, refusing to cut me some slack.

"Nothing," I tell him.

"Says every woman ever who doesn't mean it," he says, but he turns his attention back to the television.

I'm grateful that his eyes aren't assessing me, but I'd be a fool to think that he's no longer paying attention to me despite the lack of eye contact.

Silence swirls around us, but I don't know if it's my irritation at everything that's happening or my curiosity about this man that makes it feel heavier than it should. I have a million questions but asking him things gives him the opportunity to ask me things, and giving this man my pitiful, unexciting life story isn't a door I want to open now or ever if I have the choice.

I stare at the television without actually seeing what's playing out on the screen, wondering how long it'll be until I can go home. It hits me like a ton of bricks that other than my job and Morgan, I don't really have much of a life. I think that's the main reason I ended up in this position in the first place.

Walking into that warehouse was so out of character for me.

Maybe I subconsciously wanted a little adventure in my life.

"I have an important meeting tomorrow," he says, startling me from my thoughts.

"Okay," I say, waiting for him to tell me more information, but there are five minutes of silence and he never offers me anything else.

I don't know if I have a right to be angry, but that doesn't stop the emotion from raging inside of me.

Annoyance continues to grow when he finds a comedy on the television and he just sits there chuckling as if I don't exist.

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