Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67046 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“Can I confess something to you?” Her tone is slightly hesitant, but she seems determined to tell me something.
“Yes, of course.” Get it over with now; tell me you’re only here to discuss the baseball cards. Out with it.
I brace myself.
“I’m really surprised you asked me out.”
My brows go up at that, but then I feel several sets of eyes on us and the hair on the back of my neck rises, too. Instinctively, I turn my head a little to see who’s watching us.
A couple at a nearby table gets caught red-handed, but at least they have the decency to look away quickly when I make eye contact, the woman with a cell phone in her hand pointed in our direction.
Nice. Thanks for the privacy, lady I want to shout across the fancy dining room.
“Why were you surprised I asked you out?” I swear my voice cracks when I ask, tension blasting my body, the couple at the other table continuing to catch my eye and distract me.
I try to focus on what Miranda is saying.
“I wouldn’t have known you were interested, especially after Rent. Remember how you ran out?”
“I didn’t run out.” A smile begins a slow creep across my mouth and I stir the sugar in my tea with the skinny straw inside the glass. “I was having a moment.”
“A moment?” she teases. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”
“Listen, I’m not good at this sort of thing, if you haven’t figured that out yet.”
She leans forward in her seat, cleavage plumping a bit, wolfish grin on her face—the flirt. “Oh, I’ve figured it out. I just can’t figure out why.”
Why?
“You’re tall, you’re cute, you seem to be—” Miranda stops talking and cocks her head. “What do you keep staring at?” Her neck turns and it’s then she sees the young couple watching us. “Are they staring at us?”
Yes, 100% they are, but I don’t tell her that. “I think so.”
She looks back at me. “Um…why?”
We’re interrupted by a server, who sets bread on the table in front of us, notepad propped on her forearm, pen poised between the fingers on her other hand.
She glances expectantly between the two of us, waiting on Miranda.
“I’ll have the short rib risotto.” She closes the menu she’s holding and hands it back to Beverly, ordering soup instead of salad. “I always order risotto if it’s on a menu,” she confides in me as I’m about to tell good ol’ Bev here I’ll take the filet, medium, with mushrooms and broccoli on the side. Wedge salad, dressing on the side.
“So what were we talking about?” She’s squeezing the lemon into her drink. Stirs it with a spoon then rests it on the tea cup saucer. “Oh, that’s right—we were discussing the reason you ran out of Rent. Was it something I did? Because if I offended you in any way, I am so sorry.”
“Offended me? You?”
“Well what other reason could there be? I know I’m a bit much sometimes, but I didn’t think I was that bad. You can tell me—am I too bold? Be honest.”
“You’re not too bold. You were being…” I scan the word bank in my head, settling on “Kind.”
“Kind?” Her little laugh is adorable, but sardonic. “That is not what I would call giving you a full frontal last Saturday.”
“Full frontal?” I almost choke on the bread in my mouth as I attempt to swallow it whole. Bad idea. I cough, covering the action with the napkin from my lap.
“Sure, I’d had just enough alcohol to put the moves on you.”
“Put the moves on me?” I can’t stop myself from repeating her words.
“Duh. What did you think I was doing?”
“Hugging me because you felt bad.”
“Well, sure, you looked miserable, but I also wanted to know what you felt like.” She leans back, satisfied. “And I found out.”
What I felt like? What did I feel like? Now I’m dying to know.
A flash lights up the dining room and I clench my jaw to stop it from ticking.
“Did someone just take a picture?”
“Yeah.”
“Aww, date night!” Miranda nods, dismissing this as normal. “I bet they took pictures of their food, too, and posted it on Insta.”
I don’t bother correcting her, letting her live inside her little bubble before I have to burst it. And I will have to. The young couple who just snapped our picture isn’t the only couple who’s noticed me at the edge of the room—they’re just the first people to do something about it.
Comes with the job, but it’s not always my favorite part of it. Especially not when I’m already treading on thin ice with Miranda for the truths I’ve kept from her.
This is yet another one and it’s going to catch up to me.
Soon.
Tonight.
“Should we ask the waiter to take our picture too?”
Um, no? “Sure, if you want.”