Page 33 of Trust Issues
Once dinner was done, he served me while I directed him and told him where all the plates and silverware was. Once I was sitting in front of a lovely looking dinner, he served himself. He grabbed two champagne glasses because he insisted on bringing over a bottle of champagne even though I told him to bring tequila, then sat across from me to eat.
Strike…
Shit, I lost count of what strike Austin was on. I also lost track of why the fuck he was sitting at my table rambling on and on about his college days. I truly didn’t give a damn. I was setting myself up.
Kyla, get your shit together, girl.
“Man, I’m getting full. Mind if I use your bathroom?” He asked. I pointed him in the right direction and picked up my phone to text Naima.
Me: Girl. This fucking date is horrible. I’m not feeling him.
Naima: Why not? He’s fine.
Me: I know that but fine doesn’t mean a damn thing. There’s no connection. He hasn’t made me laugh once and I find myself drinking just to get through this.
Naima: You drink to get through the seven o’clock hour, Kyle. How is this different?
Me: True. This is different though. It’s like I want to get drunk to forget he’s in front of me. Oop. Gotta go. He’s coming back from the bathroom.
I turned my phone face down on the dining room table and smiled a little when Austin sat down. “Why don’t you let me clear the dishes and wash them then we can sit down on the couch? I feel like I stuffed myself. Did you like dinner?”
“Oh, it was nice. I can get the dishes, Austin. It’s not a big deal. Watching you fumble around my kitchen is driving me insane.” I didn’t know how to be anything but honest. He could like it or leave it alone.
I watched his broad shoulders slump a little but then he laughed. I swear it seemed like everything he did was fake. Like he was performing for reality TV cameras that weren’t there. I fully expected him to gaze into the distance and say ‘Welcome back to my YouTube channel guys.’
It was that bad.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and hit the Bluetooth speakers. I needed to hear something from the nineties. I needed it in my veins like blood. Something had to bring me back to life from that dead ass date.
“Oh okay, you like a little bit of old school, huh Kyla?”
“Yeah. Nineties music is life. Best era of music. No debate.”
“I’m more of a jazz man myself,” he said. I moved the plates and glasses to the sink and rinsed them off before loading them into the dishwasher.
“Nothing wrong with that.” I loaded the last of the glasses and plates then popped a tab in the dishwasher.
“Can I have a serious conversation with you, Kyla?” His voice lowered an octave and I knew I was going to have to cut him off at the damn knees. God, why the hell did I let him in my apartment? Why? I knew better.
In my big book of standards, I made notes not to ever let a man into my place until he’d proved himself. Austin had done the exact opposite and yet I stood in front of him in my kitchen wondering what stupid shit was about to come out of his mouth.
I turned on the dishwasher and looked him in the eye with my arms folded. Even my body language was ready for battle. Austin held his hand out for mine but I refused.
“Damn, is it like that? Okay. Can we sit on the couch?” He asked. I nodded and followed him to the living room after grabbing my drink. Somehow, I knew I’d need it. We had a seat and he started to rub the back of his neck. Clue number one that he was about to say some bullshit.
I could feel my bullshit sensors tingling. It was either my sensors or the copious amounts of tequila doing the Electric Slide through my veins.
“Listen, I know we’re just getting to know each other but I feel a connection with you.” He wet his lips and tried to give me sexy eyes. It wasn’t working. My eyes grew wide and I took a long sip from my glass, trying to swallow my laughter along with the tequila. “God, your eyes are stunning,” he sighed.
“Thank you. I like them too.” I laughed a little and then took another drink.
“So like I was saying, we have this amazing connection that honestly, I’ve never experienced before.”
“Austin, are you on meth? We don’t have a connection,” I blurted. He took that hit like it was nothing. He must have had what he wanted to say planned because he kept going full steam ahead like I hadn’t chopped him off at the knees leaving behind bloody stumps. At that point, it was all about watching him fall on his simple-ass face.
“I know I feel a connection, Kyla,” he reiterated while staring into my eyes. “Now, what I have to say is going to seem sudden but hear me out.”
“Is this some kind of multi-level marketing presentation or something? I don’t want Herbalife, Austin.”
