“My God! Did I hurt you? I’m so sorry. I felt a little nauseated, that’s all. I just needed a little fresh air.”
“Oh, well, I guess I should consider myself lucky that it’s just a fractured femur, then, and I didn’t get puked on, as well.” She seemed to lose all color in her cheeks. I laughed a little, to try to put her at ease. “Ignore me. I’m just yanking your chain. My leg is absolutely fine, but I’m worried about you. Do you still feel nauseous? Can I get you something else to make you feel better?” I motioned to the drinks in on the table. Neither of us had drunk much.
“Hmm...?” She looked momentarily confused. I quirked a questioning eyebrow. “Oh, right! Umm... no thank you, the feeling seems to have passed.”
“Well, that’s something, I guess. Do you think you ate something bad?”
“No! Uh... I mean, I don’t think so. I skipped breakfast this morning, as I was in a hurry, so it can’t have been that. And if it was something I ate at dinner last night, surely I’d have felt unwell before now?”
“Hmm... well, maybe it’s because you skipped breakfast. Low blood sugar can do funny things. The milk in your coffee should help though, so drink up.”
She smiled an altogether different smile to the one she’d given me before, and my dick sat up and took notice. I watched her sip daintily at her coffee, and couldn’t help but imagine her lips wrapped around me.
This was going to be like taking candy from a baby.
Chapter 5
Rose
“So tell me about Hillsborough. Did you grow up there, or just go there for college?”
The question caught me off guard, which was stupid. It was the most basic and normal of things to ask someone on first meeting them. I gave myself a quick internal pep-talk, reminding me not to second guess everything, all the time. I took a deep breath and looked into his smiling brown eyes. I needed to chill the fuck out, and go with the flow.
“No, I didn’t grow up there. I moved there for school.”
“Oh, cool. I’ve never been. What’s it like? Do you like it there?”
“I don’t know if ‘like’ is quite the right word. I guess there’s nothing bad about it, as such, but there’s not a whole lot of good, either. It’s not really famous for anything, because it doesn’t have many distinct things about it, or distinguishing features. It’s boring. The epitome of middle America, you know?” He looked like he had no idea what I was talking about.
“I guess so, but I’ll be honest, I haven’t been to too many places like that. I try to avoid them if I can. Middle of the road isn’t really my jam.”
For some reason, those words made me sit up and take notice. “Is that so? Well, Mr. ‘I’m not middle of the road,’ what exactly is your jam?”
“Well, I guess you could say I have a taste for the finer things in life, but other than that, pretty much anything goes.”
“I don’t think you can say you prefer the best, and also that anything goes. They’re mutually exclusive.”
“Not really. Within the confines of the best, I’m not too particular after that.” I watched him as he spoke. He was a perplexing combination of open and easy in some senses, but pretty hard to read in others. I was having trouble figuring him out.
“Best of what? What are we talking? People, food, booze, cars...?” This was all skirting too close to familiar Richie Rich territory for my liking.
“All of the above, and pretty much anything else you care to mention. “Best college”—I motioned toward the window at the front of the café—“best friends, best grades, best company.” He nodded my way. “Best everything.”
“Well, you’ve been given a bum steer somewhere, there. I’m definitely not the best company.”
“I don’t think that’s for you to say. I’m the one hanging out with you.” He winked. It was a small, subtle gesture, but definitely there, and for some reason, it made my stomach flip. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind.
“True, but it started with me almost snapping your shin in two, and now here we are. I don’t think I’m doing anything to warrant being described as the best, unless the bar is set very much lower than I thought.”
“You’re too hard on yourself. Or is it me who’s terrible company? I mean, I did effectively hold you hostage to ‘persuade’ you to have a coffee with me, so I guess I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to hang out.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to hang with you.”
“You didn’t have to.” He looked a little hurt.
“No really, it’s not that. I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just... out of sorts, I guess. Maybe I’m coming down with something. You must think I’m such a bitch.”
“No, not at all. It’s not on you to entertain some random guy who literally picked you up in the hall. I could be anyone, for all you know.”
“True. But, so could I, for all you know.”
“Touché. Also true. But, I know you’re not just anybody. You’re definitely somebody.” I was sure I was imagining it, but for some reason, that statement seemed loaded. Obviously, I was just being paranoid. “But maybe we should meet up another time. Intentionally, I mean, just to be sure?”
“Meet up...?
“I mean, like maybe I can buy you another coffee... Or food... And drinks.”
“So you mean like a date?”
“I guess you could call it that. Or not. Depending on how you feel about the idea.” How did I feel? I was mostly just shocked that he was asking. What I knew of him, I liked. He seemed genuine. He had a nice vibe about him, which was why I was all the more surprised that he was asking. I’d thought I hadn’t made a very good impression.
He was watching me carefully, no doubt trying to read me. “Or how about this? You give me your phone, I’ll put my number in, and you can call me, when, or if you want to. Then we can take it from there. In the meantime, I can just lurk outside that lecture theater every Tuesday at eleven, and hope you’ll bust my legs again.” I guessed he’d sensed my hesitance, and was trying his best to put me at ease.
“Stop! It was an accident. One I have no intention of repeating.”
“I definitely hope not.” He reached down and rubbed at his shin in an exaggerated fashion, chuckling as he did. His laughter was easy, and infectious, and it totally won me over.
“Okay, here.” I stretched across the table to hand him my phone, then watched in horror as I somehow managed to clip the edge of my coffee cup with it. He’d already reached out for the handset, and while it moved from my hand to his, he watched in similar horror as the mug launched into the air, spun several times, and landed back on the table with a loud clink. The world seemed to move in slow motion for the second time that morning as most of the contents of the cup hurtled through space, and into my lap.
“Shit!” I jumped up like I’d been shot, hoping to repel some of the lukewarm liquid. Of course, it was in vain, and my crotch was covered. Not only that, but half the coffee shop was now looking at me, as I’d exclaimed pretty loudly, and knocked over my chair as I stood. It had fallen to the floor with a conversation-stopping clatter. Kill. Me. Now.