Page 6 of Cyrus
The diner we’re at is full of families and old people and some colleagues from the hospital.
I hope none of them have noticed what an idiot I’m making of myself.
“All finished?”
A young, spotty waiter comes over and starts trying to clear the table.
“Woah!” I say, grabbing my milkshake glass. It only has a few more sips left, but they’re the best ones. “Easy there, bud. Step away from the table.”
The waiter puts his hands up in the air in mock surrender. I haven’t seen him before. He must be new.
“Sorry, ma’am.”
I give him my best angry-face. Who in the hell does he think he is, calling me ma’am? I’m not even twenty-three years old.
Maybe I’ll have to have a little word with the owner. Me and her are friends.
Cyrus comes back. He pulls his chair out and sits down and then looks from me and then to the waiter and then back to me again. “Everything okay?”
I turn all my attention to him. “Everything’s fine. How was the phone call.”
He reaches over and takes my hand. It’s the first time he’s touched me since he kissed me in the corridor at the hospital. I almost drop my milkshake on the floor. “It’s just some work stuff I have to take care of. Nothing to worry about.”
“Hmmm…” I say, “work stuff.”
Something tells me there's more to it than he's letting on.
I'm just about to ask him, when his phone rings... again.
He looks at the caller ID and tilts his head back and looks at the ceiling. It's obvious he needs to take the call, but doesn't want to because he's on a date with me.
“Look,” I say, “it seems like you have a lot going on right now. And I have to be at work really soon. How about we give this a try tomorrow. When you’re not so busy?”
“I’m sorry, Billie. Some stuff’s come up and I have to take care of it.”
I want to ask him what stuff. Is it illegal?
“You’ve said that already,” I say.
“That’s because it’s true.”
We sit in silence for a minute. I really do have to be at work soon. But one part of me wants to drag Cyrus into the nearest dark, corner and let him have his way with me.
The little pearl between my legs is practically screaming at me to surrender my body to this huge, strong man.
“I should probably get going,” I say.
We both stand up at the same time. I trip over my own feet and crash into him. He catches me before I fall.
I look up into his eyes. My heart keeps beating a rhythm to the brain. “I really did have a nice time,” I say. “Waffles are my favorite.”
“Mine, too," he smiles.
I straighten up and step away from him. My hand lingers on his arm. Savoring the feel of his rock-solid muscles.
So much for swearing off men. I can barely keep my hands off this guy.
“Tomorrow?” he says. “Same place, same time?”
“Yes,” I say. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
