Page 5 of A Pretty Fixation

The certainty emitted in his intriguing gray eyeshas me testing the waters now. While focusing on my reflection in the mirror, Iattempt to peek at the locked memories.

My hands begin to shake even though nothing iscoming back to me.

I grip the edge of the counter and try to calmdown, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

It’s a sign.

Dr. Sharma did an impressive job of helping me createthe walls. It’s best not to mess with them and risk unraveling anything.

Leave it alone.

Shrugging it off, I apply lip gloss, retrieve mybrush from the tote, and style my lengthy auburn strands into a bun. Then I fixmy tee over the jeans.

Back straight, chin up, I obtain newfound energyand head to work.

Fine Eatsstays busy for most of theevening.

I’m in the middle of wiping a table when two guysenter. One is light brown with soft dust of freckles on his face and a fullhead of dark wavy hair. The other guy with a summer tan and a cocky smirk isthe reason for the tautness in my stomach.

Caleb.

“What the…”

Did he follow me today? Maybe this is a coincidence.I’ve never seen him at the bistro until now. Then again, I started here twomonths ago.

Remaining professional, I approach their tableonce they’ve seated themselves. “Welcome toFine Eats.”

Caleb’s unraveling eyes steady on me. “Hi,Jordyn.”

My breath hitches. I flick to his friend tofunction. “Um, would you like something to drink aside from water?”

“Bud Light,” he responds with a sly grin.

“I’ll need to see ID please,” I inform him.

While he rifles in his pocket, Caleb reclaims myattention with, “Coke is fine for me.”

“Okay.” My voice sounds small, nervous.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I gulp as he pulls his mouth to one side, lookinglike a deity of the most immoral desires sent to entice me.

“Here you go.” His friend zaps me back to my senses,handing me his driver’s license. “I’m more legal than you.” He wiggles histhick brows.

Dante Guerra. A senior. He’s just turnedtwenty-one.

“Okay.” I return his license and tell them, “Beright back with your drinks.” Then I hurry off to the bartender.

My nerves are getting the best of me. I’mexperiencing tingles under my skin, and I have zero clue why.

I retrieve the drinks and walk back to the table,telling myself that Caleb is another customer.

That proves to be ridiculous because I stillstruggle to make contact, drifting my gaze between his friend—who is just ashandsome but has no impact on my composure whatsoever—and my small notepad.

“Are you guys ready to order?”

Dante opts for barbecue ribs and beer-batteredfries, while Caleb inquires about my favorite pasta dish on the menu.

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