Page 51 of The One I Hate
I nod. “I did, but I think I’m going to go.”
His face goes from excited to sad in a heartbeat. “Go? Why?”
“This isn’t my thing,” I say. “Plus, it looks like you have plenty of company…”
I didn’t mean to say it as insulting or insinuating that he had a harem of girls on him, even though that’s how it came out. It doesn’t help his case that two of the girls have slithered their way next to him.
“Simon? We were just getting started.”
He gently steps away from being the filling in the sorority sister sandwich. “Thanks. I’m good. You two go have fun.”
They both give an overexaggerated pout, but walk away. As soon as they are gone, I feel Simon take my hand in his. It shocks me a little, even though this isn’t the first time he’s done this. Or we’ve touched. That’s why I’m still wondering why I feel like I’ve been shocked every time our skin makes contact.
“Come on,” he says, pulling my hand out of the living room where everyone is congregated.
“Where are we going?”
He turns back to me, his smile stealing my breath away. “You’ll see.”
“So whatcha doin’?”
I fight back an eye roll and do what I know will piss him off more than anything—I don’t react at all.
I see him inch closer to me so he’s now looking over my shoulder. But I stay strong and keep my gaze forward.
“Well, since that’s your notes app, I’m going to guess making notes. Or maybe a list. You always loved making lists.”
I don’t say anything, which only makes him come closer.
“Hmm, let’s see. Finalize menus. Ask about utility costs. Bug? Why are you making those notes?”
I grind my teeth as he uses his nickname for me. “None of your business.”
“She speaks,” he says. Out of the corner of my eye I see his cocky grin.
I hate that grin.
I hate it so much.
“Here we go, my dear. French toast and an orange juice.” Mona puts my plate in front of me before noticing the unwanted guest next to me. “Simon! What are you doing here?”
“Hey, Mona,” he says. “I was hoping to get the same thing the lady has here. It looks delicious. But make mine to go.”
“Add poison to it,” I say under my breath.
“What was that, Charlie?”
I shake my head as Simon snickers. “Nothing.”
She gives me a questioning look, but doesn’t press. “Okay. I’m going to put in his order and then we can go talk. Enjoy.”
Mona walks away as I feel Simon turn to face me.
“What are you talking to Mona about? How do you know Mona? What are you doing in Rolling Hills? Did you miss me? What is the list for? Why aren’t you blonde anymore? Where did you go fifteen years ago? And why did you leave in the middle of the night last month? How many orgasms did I give you? Gosh…I just have so many questions…”
I love french toast more than life itself. Yet right now I’m willing to waste it so I can slam this dish into Simon’s smug face.
“I’m not answering any of those questions,” I say as I take a bite. Holy shit, this is good. I make good french toast, but I might need to see if I can get Mona’s secret and keep these on the menu.
