by Evelyn Sola
I turn to my table mate and watch as she puts a small bite of food in her mouth. Chicken and rice. It smells good.
I look back at her. She chews slowly and swallows, and my dick awakens in my pants. Neither one of us speaks, but I notice her cheeks turn a light shade of pink. She drops the fork and it clangs loudly against the plastic bowl before she picks up her drink. I will myself not to moan at the sight of her lips wrapping around her straw.
I don’t think I succeed though because she turns her head toward me, eyes wide, and cheeks pinker than before.
“Please, stop staring at me,” she says, her voice strained. She takes another sip of her drink and puts the cup against her neck.
I should look away. I can see the color creeping from her neck up to her face. I can see her pulse at the base of her neck. I can practically hear her heart beating in her chest.
“Get over yourself. Why don’t you stop looking at me?” I say, finally finding my voice.
“I’m not looking at you.” She angrily shoves two pickle slices into her mouth.
“Then how do you know I’m looking at you?” I challenge.
“Very mature. How old are you? Nine?” She rolls her eyes at me, but she doesn’t look away.
Her nostrils flare at the same time she pushes her food away. I don’t bother looking away. I look into her gray eyes before looking down at her mouth. I moan and lick my bottom lip at the sight of her breasts, pressed together underneath a shirt with sunflowers. I bite my bottom lip as I envision sucking one nipple then the other.
“I’m not interested in you that way.” She says the words while looking straight ahead.
“I’m just sitting here waiting on my sister.”
“Arrogant,” she throws back at me.
“Your mouth says one thing, but your body language says another,” I say to her.
She finally turns toward me, her eyes darkened with anger.
“My body language? Look at me,” she crosses her arms, blocking my view of her ample chest. “I’m sure you studied psychology, right?”
“I’m familiar with it. It’s not my area of expertise, though.”
“Notice my arms are crossed? You know what that means, don’t you? It’s a barrier between something or someone you don’t like. Since you’re the only one here…” She gestures toward me with her hand before crossing her arms back across her chest.
“You’re protesting a bit too much, don’t you think? I don’t remember telling you that I’m interested in you. I’m here for my sister, not to pick up a hostile woman.”
She grabs her food and angrily shoves a forkful in her mouth. I try to block out the dirty thoughts but fail miserably. I’d like nothing more than to stick something else in her mouth.
The sound of plastic gets my attention. I watch, mesmerized as she takes out a pickle slice, covers it with rice and shoves it in her mouth. She does this three times before I speak.
“You’re weird.”
She eats another rice covered pickle before she responds. “Weird?” Her voice is full of disdain. “Is that your medical opinion, Dr. Dupree?”
“I don’t need a medical degree to know that a woman eating pickles covered in rice is weird, no matter how beautiful she might be.”
“Well, you can keep your unsolicited thoughts and opinions to yourself.”
Irritated at her dismissal, and her presumption that I’m interested in her, I not only cross my arms, but turn my body around, practically giving her my back. Mellie and her friend come walking back, and I snatch the tray from my sister, not even caring or realizing what the hell it is I’m eating.
We eat in silence for a few minutes, the food tasting like cardboard as I chew.
“You two should come over sometime,” Mellie announces. “Jase bought this awesome three-family house in Fields Corner. It’s right off the red line.”
Ananda perks up, but Alex stands up rather abruptly, announces she’s going to finish her lunch at her desk and walks away from the table before any of us can respond.
“She’s rude,” I say to the table.
“She’s really not,” Ananda says. “She’s stubborn. Don’t give up on her,” she says to me.
I look at her like she’s crazy. “All of you women are nuts. I’m not interested in her. She’s not interested in me. Listen,” I say, looking at my Apple Watch, “I have to get back to my rounds. See you at home, Mellie.”
“Hold on! Don’t go yet,” Ananda says. “Stop lying. We all saw the electricity between the two of you.”
“So? She’s attractive. I see attractive women every day, but that doesn’t mean I’m interested in any of them. I don’t have the time, anyway. Your friend is downright hostile for no reason.”
“It’s because she thinks she’s supposed to be with someone else, but the psychic told her she was wrong. And you guys met just as the psychic predicted, but that doesn’t match up with Lex’s plans, so she’s fighting it with everything in her,” Ananda says, her speech rushed.
My ears perk up at one thing she said. “So, she’s interested in someone already? I’m not even going to address the part of the psychic because then I’d be just as crazy as you.” I turn to my sister. “You knew about this psychic bullshit, Mellie?”
“Yes, and it’s not bullshit. Not everything can be explained by science, Jason.”
“Goodbye, ladies.” I walk as fast as I can out of the cafeteria. It’s not until I’m in the elevator that I realize I left my tray and leftover food on the table. I send a quick text to Mellie apologizing for leaving my mess behind.
CHAPTER 6
ALEX
I see Jason Dupree everywhere. He’s in the halls, elevators, cafeteria. I’ve seen him standing outside three times when I arrive to work in the morning. You’d think he’d be too busy as a resident to just be loitering outside, but he’s not.
We haven’t spoken one word to each other since that horrible lunch in the cafeteria, but every time we walk by each other, his eyes find mine. Even when I was standing in front of him in the elevator the other day, I felt his eyes boring into the back of my head.
When the elevator stopped on the fourth floor, he walked by me, his body rubbing against mine in the cramped space. I could have sworn he did it intentionally, and he offered no apologies for rubbing against me just a little bit too long as he exited the elevator. My body remained alive and aware of his touch and his smell the entire rest of the day. In fact, that night while lying in my bed in my mother’s old condo, I thought of him as I gave myself some relief.
The next day when I saw him standing outside of the hospital, I avoided all eye contact, worried that he’d be able to read my mind. I can’t explain it, but since the day we bumped into each other, I haven’t been able to get him out of my mind, not for a single moment. With just a few words, he’s invaded my entire world.
I want to know everything about him, from his favorite breakfast food, his preferred brand of toothpaste, to his favorite movie. I want to know if he’d be understanding about my fear of thunderstorms. Will he hold me until the storm passes, or will he make fun of me like my last boyfriend? I already know the answer to that question, but I’m not ready to deal with that right now. Right now, I’m focused on breakfast.
“Haven’t seen you in a few days,” Tina, the owner of Beantown Café, says to me as she pours coffee into my mug.
“It’s only been two days,” I tease. Tina’s in her early forties, a burned-out lawyer who gave up the corporate world to run her own little breakfast and lunch spot.
“I’ll get you your usual. Oh, and I have good news.” She leaves my table and greets a group of customers. I sip the black coffee as I wait for my two eggs, bacon, and English muffin breakfast special.
I’m lost in thought, wondering what Tina’s good news can be, but so happy that she feels close enough to share it with me. Despite walking by this place for the past two years since it opened two years ago, I’ve only been coming in here for the
past six months when I found out about her.
I didn’t know what to expect, but she’s friendly and talkative. Anyone who’s a regular at her restaurant is a friend. I’m lost in thought when I hear the door chime open. When I see who walks inside, I almost choke on my coffee, but I manage to pull myself together.
He finds me immediately. Despite being fifty feet away, our eyes lock. His gaze only leaves mine when the hostess tells him to seat himself. He takes the table right in front of me, and instead of giving me his back, he sits facing me. I know he’s staring, waiting for me to lock eyes with him, but I pretend to look at my phone as I drink my coffee.
A minute later, Tina brings me my food, and instead of leaving, she shoves her phone in my face.
“Bruce and his wife finally had a baby,” she says, showing me a picture of the most perfect baby boy. “Owen Michael Reilly, born three days ago, weighing seven pounds three ounces. I finally have a nephew. I wanted one closer to my son’s age, but he can babysit now that he’s nineteen.” I take the phone from her and will my eyes not to tear up at the news.
I know Tina has a brother who is eight years younger and got married two years ago. Since Tina never gets enough when it comes to talking about her brother or her son once I showed an interest, she was only too happy to show me pictures.
She even told me about her parents’ divorce twenty years ago, and her mother’s hostility and anger toward her father to this day.
“He’s so beautiful,” I say wistfully. “Have you met him yet?”
“Oh, yeah. I was over there last night. They couldn’t have children, so the baby is adopted. I had to wait for them to bring him home.”
I flip through several more pictures of Owen before handing it back.
“Hey, Tina,” a deep voice penetrates my thoughts. “Did I hear about a new addition in your family?” He doesn’t wait for Tina to answer. He gets up from his table and takes a seat directly across from me. Eager to continue talking, Tina hands him her phone, and I watch as he swipes through the pictures, touching the same screen I had just touched.
“I’ll have my usual, T,” he says, making no move to leave my table. Tina nods and practically skips to the kitchen.
I stare at him, waiting for him to go back to his table. Instead of leaving, he reaches over and grabs his coffee, sipping it slowly while he watches me. I try not to notice how sexy he looks in his blue scrubs or the muscular cut of his biceps.
I pick up my coffee and mirror his movements. His eyes are playful as he watches me. When he puts his mug down, I do the same.
“Listen,” I say to him. He looks at me, eyebrows arched, waiting for me to speak. “I’m sorry for my behavior last week. I was rude, and I’m never rude. You were right. You never said you were interested in me, and I made a bad assumption.”
“A bad assumption? No, darlin’, you made a lot of assumptions about me, didn’t you? Assumed I was lost. Assumed I was slow.” He does a small eye roll, as if the idea of him being slow is out of the range of possibilities.
“Yes, well, I apologize for those things too.” I decide to change the subject and say, “I really like working with your sister. She’s convinced we’re going to find a fourth girl, and we’re going to be Boston’s version of Sex and the City, brown girl style.” I say it with a laugh that’s way too loud for this place. I look around to make sure no one’s looking, only to find him smiling at me. “And what about my apology?” I ask when he doesn’t offer one.
“What do I need to apologize for?”
“Calling me weird. Remember that?”
“You were making rice sandwiches with pickle slices. That is weird. And,” he says playfully, leaning over the table and getting closer, “you didn’t share.”
“Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to share?” I ask, copying his movements and leaning across the table.
“I wanted you to share your food,” he says slowly. “But know this. There are certain things I won’t share under any circumstances.”
“Interesting. And what kinds of things might those be?” He looks into my eyes and slowly his gaze travels down my body, stopping on my breasts. His perusal travels back up and he licks his lips as he stares at my mouth. Desire pools between my legs. I know exactly where his eyes would look next if the table wasn’t blocking his view.
“You don’t get to decide what happens with those things. Whether you like to share them or not, that’s not your decision to make.”
He continues to undress me with his eyes, not saying a word. My nipples have turned to granite, practically begging to be free of this bra.
“What’s the matter?” I ask. “Did you go mute on me again, Jason?”
He smiles a genuine smile, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth. “I like the sound of my name on your tongue. I want you to say it again, but under different circumstances.”
His food comes, and I’m surprised to see French toast with a side of bacon and eggs. With his physique, I would have assumed he’d have ordered an omelet.
“You like French toast?” I ask.
“I do. It’s my favorite breakfast food,” he says, cutting into his food. He cuts the toast in equal bite-sized pieces before taking his first bite. “They do a good job here, but it’s not as good as the French toast my best friend’s fiancée makes.”
“Yeah? What’s so special about hers?” I ask, eager to hear more about any aspects of his life.
“I’m not sure. Anything she makes is amazing. Anyway, they’re getting married next month and I’m the best man.” I listen to every word, eager to glean any information about his life, but he doesn’t say anything else except, “You want some?”
I eye his food again and nod. He pushes his plate to the middle of the table, and when I reach over to take some, he pierces a piece with his fork and offers it to me. Before I can talk myself out of it, I open my mouth and take it. I close my mouth around the fork, savoring the bread and the sweetness of the maple syrup, but most of all, relishing having my mouth where his had just been.
I moan loudly. Embarrassed, I look around the restaurant, and I’m relieved to find no other customers staring at me, but when I look back at my table mate, his already dark eyes have darkened even more.
“See? You do share.”
“No, darlin’. I’d never share where you’re concerned.”
He clears his throat, looks away and takes a long, slow sip of his ice water. He surprises me when he reaches across the table and strokes the thin chain around my neck. I take a deep breath, unable to look away from his eyes as he trails his finger to the half heart pendant.
“What’s this?” he asks.
“It was my mother’s.” I clear my throat and drop my gaze to focus back on my breakfast.
“Was?”
“She passed away five years ago,” is all I say.
“I’m sorry.”
I nod, thankful that the tears pooled in my eyes don’t fall.
The rest of the meal flies by and neither one of us talks. Tina brings the bills, and while I dig in my purse for my wallet, he hands her enough cash to cover both meals and a tip.
“You didn’t have to do that. Let me pay you back,” I say, looking inside my wallet for cash. He stands up, wipes his mouth with his napkin and throws it on the table.
“You will not,” he says. “And I want to clear some things up about the day we met.” He walks around to my side of the table and leans down close to my ear. “I wasn’t lost, I’m not slow, I won’t share, but…” He doesn’t speak again until I look up into his eyes. When I do, he smiles and says, “I am interested.” His lips are so close to my ear that I feel his breath on my skin. When his words sink in, my body reacts with goose bumps. I look around, afraid the rest of the patrons will hear the erratic beating of my heart.
As abruptly as he stood up, he walks out of the restaurant, leaving me breathless, bewildered, and completely confused.
CHAPTER 7
JASON
>
Why the hell did I tell her I was interested? The last thing I need is a woman in my life. I’m still trying to move on from the last woman I really loved and the complicated mess that was. I need another woman in my life like I need a hole in my head.
Alexandra Malone is dangerous. I knew it since the first moment I laid eyes on her, so why am I up in the middle of the night thinking about her? The way her eyes widened, and her breath hitched when I told her I was interested have yet to leave my mind. When she inhaled, her large breasts heaved, and all I wanted to do was stick my head between them and suck on her skin.
I want to leave trails of wet kisses all the way to the treasure that I know I’ll find between her legs. I want to spend hours there, making her come over and over again. While she’s still coming off her orgasmic high, I’d stick my hard cock in her mouth and come down her throat.
As I imagine her swallowing while she wipes some of my release from the corners of her mouth, I come all over my stomach. With a loud grunt, I reach over and grab tissues, wiping myself clean.
Exhausted, I turn over, hug my pillow and fall asleep with thoughts of her.
I don’t track her down at the café like I did a few days ago. In fact, I make it a point not to be outside at all when she arrives to work like I’ve been doing for the past couple of weeks.
I’ve missed seeing her walking into work, always with a smile on her face. Whenever she was forced to stop at the crosswalk, she’d sway to whatever music she was listening to. Inevitably her eyes would find mine and the smile would slip from her lips. She’d look away, but not before I’d see the color creep across her smooth cheeks.
I’ve missed seeing her, but as I make my way to her office now, I know I’ll get to feast my eyes on her soon. I only have a few minutes, and when I feel my phone vibrate, I assume it’s the attending physician telling me to get my ass to the operating room immediately, but it’s a text from a phone number I don’t recognize.
Call me! It’s Natalie.
Typical Natalie. It’s always about her. She only hears what she wants, not what’s being said. If she did, she would never contact me again. Obviously, she’s figured out I blocked her number, so what does she do? She probably downloaded some app that blocks her number.