by Layla Frost
I’d found myself holding my breath, waiting.
But he’d been called away, leaving my imagination to run wild for two days straight.
“Usual?” I asked as he approached the counter.
“Please.”
After fixing his coffee, I turned back and handed it to him. “No Luc today?”
“No.” His sharp eyes narrowed slightly. “Why do you ask?”
Smiling, I gestured to the nearly empty bakery case. “I don’t think we have enough left for him.”
The man chuckled. “He sent me with a long list of requests, so he’ll be disappointed.”
“What would he like?”
Bringing his hand to his chin, he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip.
Like before, I held my breath, not wanting him to stop. Actually, I wanted to bite his lip. Maybe have him stroke mine in a similar way.
Of course if he did that, I wouldn’t be able to see the way the veins in his strong hand shifted with each movement.
It’s official; I’ve lost my mind. My hormones have taken my brain hostage.
No more smutty books.
Wait, that’d make work even more boring.
No more for at least a day.
Half of one…
A couple minutes.
“No banana muffins?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Big order cleared them out about ten minutes after they were delivered. I didn’t even get to sneak one for myself.”
“Shame. I was looking forward to tasting.” He met my gaze for a moment before looking back to the case. “Would you pick out a few things so he doesn’t complain all afternoon?”
“Sure.” Using a piece of wax paper, I bagged four of the more popular items and handed them to him. “You’re all set, have a nice day.”
His lips quirked up as he took a bill out of his wallet.
I didn’t really think he’d go for the free food, but he’d overpaid both times he’d been in. I might have been a wizard at the perfect fancy schmancy coffee, but even those didn’t deserve such a massive tip. A plain cup certainly didn’t.
Plan B.
I touched the screen, the register sliding open. Taking the fifty from him, I lifted the drawer and grabbed the cash I’d set aside. Quickly adding some coins, I snagged the receipt and held it out to him. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
His eyes widened, scanning the money. “You had the correct change set aside.”
“Lucky guess.” When he made no move to take it, I set it on the counter between us. “Enjoy the rest of the day.”
“Go out with me.” Spoken like a command, there was no question in his tone.
Other than my love affair with Netflix and HBO Go, my romantic life was nonexistent. Actually, my social life in general leaned more toward blanketed hermit, not wild party girl.
A couple of brief interactions with a random guy wasn’t completely changing that, of course. Even if he was really, really ridiculously good-looking.
What do I have to lose? Even if he ends up being a total walnut, at least I can say I went out with a man who was supermodel hot. Maybe I can even sneak a couple pictures of him during the date for proof and memories and… reasons.
“Okay,” I agreed. When he opened his mouth, I continued. “But I have some stipulations.”
“Well, I don’t have my contracts or briefcase with me, but I’ll try to negotiate without them.” Placing his hands flat on the counter, he leaned in slightly. “What’re your conditions?”
I pushed his change closer. “No more crazy tipping. If we’re going to go out, I don’t want to feel like some sort of…” My words trailed off, but he just arched his eyebrow, forcing me to finish. “I dunno, pastry prostitute or something.”
His lips tipped up, though he was quick to hide it. “Deal. Next point?”
“We plan ahead of time, and I meet you at the restaurant.”
“Worried you’ll need to escape?”
I fought to keep a straight face. “Maybe you’re an awful driver. Or, I don’t know, listen exclusively to Justin Bieber or stock market updates or something.”
His full lips pursed as he hesitated before muttering, “I… honestly don’t know what the most offensive part of that was. I’m leaning toward Bieber.” He nodded. “Okay, deal. Anything else?”
I held up my hand, my thumb and forefinger a small distance apart. “Just one tiny thing.”
“Yes?”
“I kind of have to know your name.”
His eyes widened before he grinned, his dimples becoming deeper. “Theo Amato,” he said, holding out his hand.
I met his hand with my own.
There was no zing. No zap. No electricity or currents travelling between us. A chorus of angels didn’t suddenly appear to sing Teddy Pendergrass while a fur covered bed magically appeared.
Instead, his palm was warm and dry, his skin slightly calloused. It was surprising and sexy.
And real.
He kept hold of my hand a few seconds longer than necessary, not that I was in a rush to yank mine away. Pulling out a cell that looked like it could control space shuttles, he tapped the screen a few times. “Is having your number acceptable?”
“Well, I was hoping for a courier pigeon delivered invite, but I guess.” I rattled off my cell, trying to ignore those pesky sexy veins in his hands.
The door behind him opened, and a small group of college kids entered, lugging laptop bags and backpacks. Before the door had the chance to swing shut, three stroller wielding moms pushed in, followed closely by a few people in business attire with their eyes stuck on their phones.
I glanced at the clock, seeing the lunch rush was right on time.
For a few minutes there, it’d been easy to forget people were around.
“I have to get back to the grind.” I picked up his change and handed it to him.
Pocketing it, Theo pulled out a business card. “I’ll call you soon.”
As he walked away, some of the college students and moms watched him go, not that I blamed them. What was unexpected, however, was the way the business people pried their eyes away from their phones, a hurried and hushed conversation breaking out between them as soon as he was out of earshot. It was as if they recognized him, and I had to force myself not to question them as I made their coffees.
Note to self: Consult Google.
···
Later that night, I trudged toward the back room of the grocery store. My feet were sore, and my lower back numb.
“Leaving already?” my jerk assistant store manager sneered as I approached the employee lockers.
“Yup. My shifted ended an hour ago.”
“Shifts end when the work is done. Is everything restocked, cleaned, and organized?”
No, I’m completely incompetent and haven’t been doing this for two years.
Instead, I said, “Yes, sir.”
“Do you have your schedules done for next week?”
I nodded. “Done, signed off on, and posted.”
I could almost see Bill’s mind working as he tried to come up with some other nonsense task for me. Obviously he couldn’t think of one. “Good. Try not to be such a clock watcher in the future.” He hustled away to find someone else to torment, the stick lodged firmly up his rear end.
With a tired sigh, I turned away and grabbed my things from my locker. The light on my cell was flashing, showing a missed call and a waiting voicemail. I didn’t recognize the number, and my heart began to race as I connected to my messages.
A stupid smile spread across my face when I heard his voice.
“Dahlia,” he said, his voice an intimate rumble in my ear, “it’s Theo. I’m calling to follow-up on our negotiations, specifically Clause B. If Friday at eight PM works for you, how about Revel on Northern Ave? You can meet me there so you don’t risk hearing any… Bieber.” He sighed dramatically, but I could hear a smile in his voice when he added, “I’m still insulted. Call me soon.”
I listened to the message again as I walked outside, and held in a giddy laugh. The butterflies were having a field day in my stomach and chest. Saving the message, I hung up and added his number in my phone. My finger hovered over the call button, but I knew it had to be after midnight, which was way too late. Instead, I brought up a text message as I walked the few blocks to my apartment. I wasn’t even sure if he’d called from his cell, but I figured it was worth a shot.
Me: Hi Theo, it’s Dahlia. I’m not even sure if this message will go through, but sorry for sending it so late if it does. Friday sounds great. I’ll see you there. Enjoy your Bieber. Maybe some One Direction?
Before I could lose my nerve, I pressed send. My phone vibrated a minute later as I entered my building.
Theo: Your message did go through. Feel free to send more at any time. I’m looking forward to Friday, and not because of the Biebs. Or 1D, though Harry and I have the same dimples.
I burst out laughing, slapping my hand over my mouth to stifle the noise.
Mrs. Giovanni had the first apartment in the hallway, and she never let anyone forget it. I was surprised there wasn’t a permanent ring around her eye from how often she had it pressed to the peephole, ‘monitoring’ the comings and goings of everyone in the building. She’d been known to call management to complain about people sneezing too much.
Laughter would surely warrant a call to the police.
Although she complained loudly and often about the noise level, she herself had bugged the super until he’d finally relented and allowed her to move into the front apartment before her lease was up. Her original apartment had been far from the entrance, elevator, and stairwell, which meant it’d been quiet, but it made her snooping difficult.
At the risk of texting too loudly for her liking, I pressed the elevator button and waited until I was safely inside before messaging Theo back.
Me: I’m looking forward to finding out how you know who Harry Styles is…
When the elevator stopped at my floor, I got out and walked down the hallway to my apartment. My cell beeped as I tossed my bag on the table.
Theo: Doesn’t everyone? You’re up late.
Me: I could say the same to you. Unless it was my text that woke you, in which case, I’m sorry again.
Theo: Up working, but I wouldn’t have minded if you had woken me.
Not bothering to take my shoes off, I collapsed onto my bed.
Me: And I thought I had a late work schedule. I just got home and have to be at the café at five.
As if on cue, I yawned, my body starting to feel heavy.
Theo: Get some sleep then. Text anytime, and see you Friday.
I’ll just close my eyes for a second and then text him back.
I jolted awake when my phone dropped onto my face. Pushing it to the side, I rolled over onto my stomach and fell right back to sleep.
···
What am I doing? Why did I agree to this?
No, seriously, what in the world am I doing?!
When Theo had asked me out, I’d been excited, accepting right away.
I should’ve looked up the restaurant first.
Located right near the ocean, everything about the place was gorgeous. The décor was modern and classy. The view was breathtaking. Even the food was sexy.
Because I could be slightly indecisive, I always looked at menus ahead of time to pick what I was ordering. It helped avoid the forty minutes of wishy-washy back and forth.
Well, it cut it back to only ten minutes.
Fifteen at most.
No prices on the menu had already given me a feeling that my plan to go dutch wasn’t going to work if I wanted to eat for the rest of the week. Looking around the site, the unease grew when I’d realized I had nothing to wear to a place like that. I owned one dress, and it was very casual. Jeans, leggings, and tees made up ninety-nine percent of my wardrobe.
If the food was outside of my spending limit, a new outfit that would fit in there would mean I wasn’t eating for the rest of the month.
At least.
Popping into a thrift shop, I’d scoured the racks, hoping to come up with something that’d work. Unless I’d wanted to try an eighties theme or a cotton candy pink nightmare made of taffeta, I was out of luck.
Overwhelmed, I’d taken out my phone to cancel when a ‘genius’ idea popped into my head. I’d seen a million Pinterest posts for turning shirts into dresses. The tutorials always made it look super easy.
I worked hard to avoid getting lost in a Pinter-vortex and scrolled through until I found the right look. When I’d walked over to the men’s section and immediately picked up the perfect black shirt, half-price at that, I’d thought my luck had turned around.
Glaring down at my disaster, it was clear I was wrong.
Way wrong.
I’d watched the video at least five times first. Then I’d watched while I worked, pausing as I went.
What the hell did I do wrong? I followed the instructions exactly.
The oversized, silk men’s dress shirt was supposed to transform into a fun and fitted dress.
Instead, it looked like I’d survived a bear attack, only to fall into some thorny bushes.
With a sigh, I pulled off the disaster, tossing it right into the trash. I picked up the phone to check the time, only to see a text.
Theo: Looking forward to tonight.
Closing my eyes, I pictured his sharp eyes and dimpled smile. I also remembered how easily he’d made me laugh.
Oh yeah, that’s why I agreed to this.
Me: Me too.
Pulling everything out of my closet, I spread all my clothes across the bed and stepped back. My lone dress was going to have to do. Scoop necked and three-quarter sleeved, the loose skirt of the dress ended a couple inches above my knees. Different sized pastel pink flowers were spread across the pale green fabric. I lined up all my leggings with it before deciding on a black pair that looked almost like leather. I was hoping it gave it an edgier look, but was fairly certain I just looked like I was having a fashion identity crisis.
Which, really, I kinda was.
It’s the look that says ‘I’m going to a picnic, but then I need to cosplay as Catwoman’.
After quickly getting dressed, I did some light makeup and started to pull my hair up. Changing my mind, I left it down and pinned the top back.
I checked my purse, tossing my phone in. Digging through my small coat closet, I pulled out a pair of green ballet style shoes and a drapey black cardigan. With one last look in the mirror, I locked up and headed for the T.
Even though it was long after rush hour, the subway was packed. Some people were still in their work gear, others clearly out to party. Based on the giggles and booze smell coming from the seat behind me, some had already been partying for a while. Sitting diagonal from me, a clearly drunk brunette talked incessantly at an older, suit clad man with graying red hair. He didn’t appear to be paying attention to a word she said, but she didn’t seem to mind or notice.
My earbuds were in, although they were only for show. I was able to hear what was happening around me, but it deterred people from trying to talk to me.
Usually.
The train ride was quick and uneventful, the other passengers wrapped up in their own groups or fighting to stay awake after a long week. My nerves grew the closer I got to my stop, but it was a nervous excitement rather than a negative feeling.
After getting off the train, I made my way through the station and up to the streets. I pulled my sweater tight around me, the wind whipping as I made the short walk to the restaurant.
Coming from the side, I saw Theo before he saw me. The sleeves of his dark sweater were pushed up, his hands in his slack pockets. Ambience lighting made his cheekbones more defined.
Doubt attacked my mind, racing thoughts telling me to run away.
Don’t let him see you. Especially not in your hot mess of an outfit.
Tuning out the an
noying voice of self-doubt, I fisted my hands at my sides to stop myself from picking at my clothes.
Go, go, go!
I was caught between wanting to roll my eyes at myself and wanting to follow my own advice.
Before I could decide which to do, Theo turned. A wide smile spread across his face as he walked toward me.
“Dahlia,” he greeted. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, you look great, too.”
His smile turned into a grin. “Hungry?”
I nodded before letting him lead me inside.
The interior was even more stunning than the pictures had shown, a mix of edgy and sophisticated.
“I’ll let them know we’re here,” Theo said, tilting his head toward the crowded host stand.
“Okay.” Moving out of the way of people coming and going, I scoped out the rest of the room. There was a table next to me with glass bowls of matchbooks and golf tees. I needed neither, but I grabbed them anyway, sliding them into my bag. Fast food was a splurge for me. Having a date somewhere like Revel was definitely worth remembering.
“Ready?” Theo asked a moment later, his hand moving to rest gently on my lower back as we weaved through the crowds.
We followed the hostess up the stairs to the main dining area. The bar was jam packed and almost every table taken. She led us to an empty one next to the window overlooking the ocean. I could see part of the skyline, plus some boats in the distance. The full moon reflected on the dark water.
“Is this table okay?” the hostess asked, her tone confused.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed. Realizing she wasn’t talking about the view, I tore my gaze away and smiled. “Thanks.”
I glanced down and noticed Theo moved one of the two chairs so it was facing the window instead of next to it.
He put light pressure on my back. “Sit.” When I did, he took his seat next to me. “The table is perfect,” he told the hostess.
She looked relieved. “Can I get you both something to drink? We have an immense collection of top shelf liquors, including a specialty cocktail menu. We also have one of the largest wine selections in the city. Would you like me to send over the sommelier?”