Page 11 of The Love Interest
His eyes meet mine for a flickering moment, and in that moment, I forget why I had convinced myself it would be prudent to avoid romantic entanglements until I’ve completed twenty decent pages of my book. I forget everything that’s ever happened to me up until now. My heart, that restless bird, is fluttering excitedly against its cage. Or maybe it’s my rebellious nipples fluttering against my very thin bra. Things are happening inside my blouse. And my panties.
But I am not some damsel in distress.
I pull my hand away, but I say, “No, it’s fine, really. I can call my roommate and ask him to bring my wallet to me. I mean, he’s probably in the middle of fellating someone right now, but he’ll check his phone eventually. If you don’t mind me waiting here for a while longer, Ellen, I will pay you, I promise. I’ve been in the restaurant business my whole life—I would never try to stiff you.”
Frowny Handsome Guy just became Smirking Handsome Guy.
Wait. Did I just say “fellating” out loud? And “stiff?”
“Shit.”
Shit. Did I just say “shit” out loud?
What is wrong with me? Why does it feel like my skin is on fire? What happened to the air-conditioning? How can I be this warmandhave arctic witch tits at the same time? “Um…”
“That’s sweet of you, honey,” Ellen says.
“Thanks,” I say before realizing she’s talking to Handsome Guy and not me.
“I’m clocking out soon, so I’d appreciate it.” She pats his bicep affectionately—but I notice her squeezing it just a little bit and blushing. Must be a nice bicep.
“No problem.” He hands her a twenty, along with my check, and tells her to keep the change.
“Thanks, doll. Can I bring you anything else?”
Doll?! Why ishethe doll? I’m the doll.
“I’m good, thank you.” He gives her a perfunctory nod. Almost dismissive but still somehow polite. He is definitely from money.
But I would have given Ellen a bigger tip.
If I’d had enough money.
Or any money.
Ellen turns on her flat, slip-resistant heel without so much as a glance at me before walking away.
I half-expect dismissive Wrinkled-Brow Handsome Guy to disappear without acknowledging me too, but he seems to be studying me. Contemplating me. Dreading me?
“Thank you so much.” I offer him a genuine smile as I place the strap of my bag around my shoulder. “I really appreciate it.”
His gaze drops from my face when I have to let go of my blouse, and he does a really good job ofalmostnot widening his eyes when he catches a glimpse of the nipple show. “Welcome. It’s no problem.”
Jesus, his voice is smooth and gravelly at the same time. How is that even a thing? Most of his face appears to be mad at me, but his eyes and voice are warm and inviting now, and Idoneed inspiration… Well, why not? I solemnly swear that I’m in the mood to get up to no good.
“So how’s that milkshake?” Harmless question delivered in a flirtatious tone—my specialty.
“It’s fine.” He blinks, nods, and then goes back to his table.
That’s it. That’s all he says and does.
Which is so rude, because—don’t assault a girl with hot-guy eyes, confuse her nipples, pay her bill, and then just walk away.Who does that?!
He doesn’t even look over at me when he sits back down. He just sucks on that straw and finishes off his milkshake, staring down at his table. It’s like he’s erecting an invisible wall between us. And that is clearly the only thing that will ever be erect between us.
All righty then. Mischief managed, I guess. Thank you and good night.
Apparently, I’m repelling everyone in this diner tonight, so perhaps I should leave now.
