Page 221 of The First Time
"Sometimes. Sometimes there's this wage slave solidarity. If I'm at Duane Reade or Staples or something. People will complain about their long day or their bosses if they can tell I'm on my way home from work."
Blake studies me. It's like he's a scientist and I'm an animal at the zoo. His eyes pass over me slowly. "You're a smart girl."
"What convinced you—my cleavage?"
He says nothing.
I just stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Next thing I know, you'll be taking off my clothes and telling me how smart I look in my lingerie."
"I wouldn't waste me breath if you were in lingerie."
I swallow hard. "Of course. I just mean—" I clear my throat. "You don't know me. Or that I'm smart."
"You posted about your college acceptances on Facebook."
"That was a long time ago," I say.
"But it's still there. Even though you haven't updated your page in two years." He makes eye contact. "You were accepted to two Ivy League schools, to three SUNYs, to NYU."
"And?"
"You could have done anything with your life, but you stayed here."
"Do you also know about my parents?"
"Yes."
"Then you know why I'm here." How the hell does he know that? I guess it's easy enough to find with a quick Google search. But still… I don't like it. Even if I did my own sleuthing.
"You value family."
"Yes."
"You're smart."
I open my mouth to object—Blake doesn't know anything about my intellect—but he's already on to his next point.
"You're beautiful."
My cheeks flush. "Thank you."
"You have terms."
I nod.
"What are they? What exactly do you want?"
