Page 79 of Splintered Hearts

“Oh thank—”

“Normally, I don’t date men like you, but you look incredible.”

Um... “What do you mean, men like me?”

“You know.” He waves his hand up and down like I should know exactly what the fuck he’s talking about.

“I seem to be a little dense. In kindergarten terms, please.” I smile brightly.

“You know. More fem, I guess.”

“You like more masc men?” Everyone has their preferences, nothing wrong with that.

“I just don’t find the appeal in femininity. I mean, if I wanted to date a woman I would, you know.” Ben laughs. “I just prefer the men I date to be men.”

“I am a man,” I say tightly.

“No, I know. I know, I... shit, that’s not what I meant.” Only, it is. “I just meant that normally, I’m not attracted to makeup and stuff.”

“I am barely wearing any.”

“No, I know but—”

“There’s nothing wrong with dating a woman either.” There’s not being attracted to someone, then there’s blatant disrespect and making your preferences another person’s problem.

Bri would have ripped this guy’s balls off.

“Well, unfortunately for you, I am a little...” I flop my wrist forward, and Ben blinks. What I’m wearing, the makeup I have on, or the paint on my nails, should not matter.

I prefer taller men, but that doesn’t mean I go up to every shorter man and tell them they’re less attractive or worthy.

I take a giant swig from my glass.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that to sound like it did.” Only he did mean it. What he didn’t expect was for me to get pissed. Masking truth as jokes to get out of it is not on. This isn’t nerves. Ben’s just an asshole. A gun-toting, misogynistic asshole.

This is not going to work, but it doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a night out, possibly on this man’s dime.

“So, how long have you two lived together?”

“Oh.” The abrupt topic change startles me. “About a month.”

“Seems like an asshole. I feel sorry for you.”

He doesn’t know Jamie. How fucking dare he? “Excuse me, he’s—”

“Good evening. I’m so sorry for the wait. Are you two ready to order?”

Looking up at the pretty waitress, I feel relief wash through me until Ben speaks. “We were ready twenty minutes ago. I’ve seen two people get their food already and they came in after us.”

Um... no. We’ve been talking the entire time and Ben’s gaze hasn’t left mine, as unnerving as that’s been. “It’s okay. Thingshappen.”

Trying to gather her composure, she smiles at him. “I apologize. We had a last-minute call-out.”

“I didn’t ask for an excuse, I’m just asking for service.”

What. The. Fuck.

“Right,” she says tightly. “I apologize. What can I get you?” Ben orders a chicken breast with steamed vegetables. She looks to me and honestly, I just want to go home. I’m so embarrassed. “Sweetie?” she says softly, a look passing between us.

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