“What?”
“Never mind. You’ve already given me this bad rep in your head. So I’ll keep my thoughts to myself,” he says, feigning hurt feelings.
“Now my curiosity is quite piqued, sir. I’m sure it won’t change my view of you in any way. Tell me,” I demand playfully.
He arches his brow and leans in, and I follow his lead, as if he’s about to tell me a secret. “I’d rather show you, but I think you’re the type of girl who would require a few more dates before that happens.”
I feel my mouth fall open. Is he referring to what I think he’s referring to? He’s watching me, waiting for my reaction. I decide not to push it any further, at least not directly.
“Hillary was a little irritated that you didn’t speak to her earlier.” I change the subject, wanting to know his thoughts. “She’s not used to a guy ignoring her the way you did.”
“I’m sure she’s not.” He chuckles, and I arch my brow questioningly. “But I’m not like most guys. It takes more than big tits and a face full of makeup to get my attention.”
I’m a little taken aback by his frankness.
He notices. “I just mean there’s nothing original about that. I see it every day. She’s hot, but I’ve seen her type.”
“And what exactly is her type?” I ask, irritation evident in my voice. Hillary and I see things through different eyes and we disagree a lot, but she’s still my friend. I won’t let him speak badly about her, no matter how incredibly sexy he is.
He sighs, noticing my defensiveness. He clasps his hands together. “Can I be one hundred percent with you right now?”
I nod apprehensively.
“Her type is usually empty, demanding, feeding on everyone else around them to boost their ego, jumping from one guy to the other,” he explains. “So absorbed in her own sense of self-worth that she doesn’t realize that any man who can stand her is doing it just long enough to get laid.”
I’m caught off guard by his answer. I won’t confirm or deny what he’s saying, and I decide to steer the conversation in a different direction. “So are you saying you’re not interested in sex?”
He folds his arms and flashes an amused grin. He leans in and, like a magnet, I do the same.
“Oh no. I’m very interested in sex.” His voice is low and sensual, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. I’m disappointed when he leans back in his seat. “That doesn’t mean I’d screw any girl who batted her fake eyelashes at me. So what about you?” He focuses those piercing gray eyes on me.
I smile to hide my nervousness. Most guys I know fail to look me in the eye, which I hate, but it’s as if his eyes can see right through me, and I don’t know which is worse. His candor is refreshing but unexpected. I don’t know how to answer his question; he’s been so honest, it would be hypocritical if I didn’t return the favor.
“Well, it’s been a-a while since the last time,” I say nervously.
“I actually meant ‘what do you like to do,’ but I’m sorry to hear that.” He smiles teasingly.
I think I’m going to die of embarrassment. “Oh, God,” I whimper, covering my face.
Then I feel his hands on mine, and he brings them down. I look at him, surprised, his touch giving me butterflies.
“Don’t ever hide those gorgeous eyes from me again,” he tells me.
I’m even more embarrassed, but this time it feels much better. “Well, I’m pretty boring, actually.” I laugh, slightly disappointed when he lets go of my hands.
“I’m sure that’s not the case.” He rests his arms behind his head.
“I like to paint, draw, sculpt…” I tell him.
“Oh, an artist?” He grins.
“Yeah, kind of.” I smile.
“So is that something you want a profession in?” Somehow, it actually seems like he’s interested, and not just for the sake of conversation.
“Well, sculpting and painting are more of a hobby, but drawing is what I love. If I could wake up every day and do it for a living, that’d be great. Unfortunately, there isn’t a demand for artists, so I don’t know how far I can go with it professionally.” I sigh.
“Are you any good?” he asks.
I’m a little caught off guard by that. “Well, I hope I am. It’d be kind of heartbreaking if I sucked at something I love so much,” I remark with a chuckle.
“So am I going to see some of this work of yours?”
“I don’t know. I’m sort of private about it,” I say apprehensively.
“If you want to stun the world, you have to show it first,” he says casually, and for the second time, I have nothing to say. “And you can practice on me.”
“Maybe.” I smirk. “So are you from Chicago?”
“I’ve lived here most of my life,” he answers. “What about you?”
“No, I go to school here at Chicago University. I was born in Michigan; Saginaw, to be exact,” I tell him.
“Beautiful, smart, and Saginaw—I’ve been there before,” he says.
“Really? I’ve never known anyone from Chicago who willingly went there,” I say, surprised.
“I used to know some people who lived near there,” he says, his mouth turning downward. “You didn’t like it?”
“No! I love it. It’s my home, where I grew up. There’s just not much opportunity there. Well, you’ve been there. You probably understand.”
He nods.
“It’s weird how you don’t appreciate something until it’s gone,” I continue. “When I was younger, I always dreamed about coming to Chicago and never looking back. But now that I’m here, I can’t wait until I’m able to go back for a visit.”
“So you’re a small-town girl?” he jokes.
“I guess you can say that.” I laugh. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Not at all,” he replies convincingly.
I glance down as my phone vibrates. I look at the caller ID and see that it’s Hillary. Why didn’t I turn it off, and why isn’t she texting me? I roll my eyes.
“I better get that,” I say with a sigh. Pressing the answer key, I say, “Hello?”
“Hi! How’s it going so far?” she asks, excited and loud. I know he can hear her through the phone.
I look at him, and he smiles.
“Excuse me a minute.” I laugh as I stand and walk to another part of the restaurant. “Everything is fine,” I tell her.
“So what did you do? Where’d you go? Have you kissed him? Tell me everything!” she demands.
“This couldn’t have waited until I got home?” I laugh.
“Well, yeah. But it’s one o’clock, and being that I’m the best person in the world, I wanted to act motherly and make sure you’re okay, of course.” More like nosey.
“Thank you, Mom. Wait, did you say one?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yeah! This is the longest you’ve ever been out, other than when you have to work! That’s why I thought I’d check on you. Oh, and FYI—your boss man has called here three times. He wants you to call him ASAP or something like that.”