Page 24 of Savage Cravings

I never tried to go on a date again. And it wasn’t like I had so much freedom to explore, even if my first hadn’t gone to such shit.

Things were much more isolated once I’d graduated high school, when I stopped interacting with anyone unless they were patch members or prospects of the club, or hang-arounds who hoped to attach themselves to dangerous men.

They weren’t the kind of people I wanted to interact with, much less bring into my life any more than necessary.

But now that I was free…

Perhaps there was a chance to get nervous over a first date.

To find aproperand normal boy to date.

I decided then that the man I ended up with would be a nice man.

Someone strong and sturdy.

Someone I could depend on.

I could feel a small thrill of excitement at the thought.

I could leave my former life behind.

I could be more than Daniel Hayes’ daughter.

For the first time in days, my smile was genuine as I greeted the couple.

Luckily, they didn’t ask many questions about the menu, because I didn’t know much about it, and they ordered quickly too.

I wrote it down on my notepad and dropped it off in the kitchen.

First order done.

I could do this.

I took a deep breath and walked up to my next table. Four girls around my age, if not a little older, had come in. I got there just in time to hear one of them complain about the slow service.

I pretended not to hear.

This was what I imagined a girls’ night out would look like.

“Hi. My name is Mila. Can I get you folks something to drink?”

The brunette, the one sitting furthest away from me, offered a kind smile. “Just a Coke is fine.”

I nodded and turned to the other three. Two blondes and one redhead.

It was the redhead who made me falter. She was also the one who had complained about the service, so I wasn’t off to a good start with her.

She was beautiful, no doubt about it, but there was an air about her that could only be classified as mean.

I didn’t know how else to describe it, and I found myself taking half a step back before I realized what I was doing.

I stood my ground.

Sometimes, I wished I looked like her.

Looked more like my mom, who, like the redhead, also looked mean.

Instead, I appeared younger than I actually was. I got what Dad had called “young features.”

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