by Kelsie Rae
Oops.
I shake my head and walk down the hall. Marcus’s door is wide open, and he’s currently stretching in his computer chair with his arms lifted over his head as he yells into his headset.
The sight brings a smile to my face.
It also doesn’t hurt that he’s easy on the eyes. I refuse to admit that I get a notification sent to my phone anytime he logs into a gaming platform called Flinch that allows people to watch him and other players stream during their game. You can watch the actual game, but there’s also a little box in the right-hand corner showing off the actual gamer as they dominate the artificial universe, one badass game at a time.
I’ll also never admit that my eyes rarely waver from that damn little box showcasing Marcus as he beats his opponents.
Nope. I admit to nothing.
By some miracle, I contain the lustful sigh from escaping my lips before turning on my heel and walking into my room on the opposite side of the hall.
My gaze shifts between a pair of ratty old sweats and a chunky sweater dress that shows off my tan legs.
Two choices. Stay in? Or go out?
I was so excited to go out to dinner, and I’m disappointed with myself that just because Sophie bailed, I’m questioning whether or not I should go too.
Chef Thomas’s words ring through my head, reminding me of the impending decision I need to make. Soon.
I need to be able to stand on my own two feet, instead of relying on those around me. If I want to shine on my own, I need to stop hiding behind other people. It’s kind of my curse, and my hesitancy to go to dinner by myself only confirms that.
Inhaling deeply, I step out of my clothes and reach for the sweater dress. My hands are a little shaky as I slip it over my head before grabbing my knee-high boots. I head into the bathroom to touch up my makeup and run a brush through my long, dark hair. Licking my lips, I give myself a quick mental pep talk in the mirror.
It’s dinner. That’s it. I’ve done dinner before by myself, even if it was only takeout. I’ve just never actually sat in a restaurant by myself. I shake my head. Doesn’t matter. Everything will be fine. People do crap like this all the time, and I need to get used to it too. My best friends are living their happily-ever-afters with their men and soon-to-be children. I need to learn to do things by myself too.
I nod my head in the mirror a few times, until I’m positive I resemble a bobblehead, before gripping the handle and stepping into the hallway.
And nearly running into a shirtless Marcus.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath as my hand connects with his hot, naked skin.
I freeze up completely before my gaze darts along all the exposed flesh a few inches in front of me. By some miracle, I snap myself out of my daydream that’s unveiling itself right before my eyes and look up at Marcus.
Shouldn’t have done that. His gaze is like fire, burning me from the outside in before smirking devilishly at me.
“Can I help you?” he murmurs.
Gingerly, I remove my hands from his cut torso, licking my lips to confirm there isn’t any drool.
“Umm…nope. Just going out to dinner. Bathroom’s all yours.”
I go to step around him when he grasps my forearm, stopping me in my tracks. His eyes scan me from head to toe, and I refuse to admit that a swarm of butterflies attack me as he does so.
“Dinner?” he probes, looking unconvinced.
“Yup.”
He quirks his brow when his gaze reaches mine. “With who?”
“Just me.” But thanks for reminding me, I think to myself.
“Dressed like that?”
I pause my rebuttal before looking down at my appearance. When I decide there’s nothing wrong with the way I look, I reply, “Yes? Is that a problem?”
“Well, if you bend over, your ass will be on full display. So, yeah. I’m going to say that’s a problem.”
I roll my eyes as I search for an ounce of patience. “It’s not that short, Marcus. And like I said, it’s just me, so it’s not like you have any dates that you need to worry about, okay?”
His eyes narrow, and his grip tightens on my arm. It doesn’t hurt by any means, but it does convey the power coiled in his muscles. He could break me, or anyone else for that matter, if he chose to release it.
Why do I find that so attractive?
“That doesn’t help,” he growls.
Shaking my head, I murmur, “There’s just no pleasing you, Marcus. This?” I use my index finger to point between us. “This is why I moved out of Cali as soon as I could convince Sophie to go with me. Your big brother act was getting on my nerves back then, and it’s getting on my nerves now. You used to get pissed when I’d go out with Sophie on double dates, because you were afraid we’d get taken advantage of. And now?” I scoff. “Now, all I’m trying to do is grab a bite to eat––by myself––and you’re still being a controlling bastard and not letting me go. You’re not my dad, Marcus. And you sure as hell aren’t my big brother, either.” I wrench my arm away from him, but he steps closer until my back presses against the hallway wall behind me.
“I never said I was your big brother.”
“Then stop acting like it,” I spit.
His nostrils flare as the tension swirls around us. I watch as his jaw clenches in frustration, making him look like a freaking Adonis chiseled from granite. “You have a problem with me looking out for you?” he grits out.
“Yeah.” I lift my chin, making sure not to cower. “I do.”
His lips tilt up wickedly as my chest brushes against his. “Then be my guest.”
He lifts his arms and motions to the front door like an usher at a wedding, which only seems to piss me off more.
Angrily, I stomp toward the exit then slam the door behind me.
Bastard.
Before I can stop myself, I pull up a new text and type the message I’ve been dreading for weeks.
Me: Hey! After a lot of thought, I’ve decided that I definitely want to participate if you could still call your friend and see if they have any openings. Thanks!
Hitting send, I release a deep, shaky breath before making my way down the hall and to the street.
It’s the right decision.
Chapter Eight
Natalie
I debate for a few minutes on which restaurant I should go to and decide Italian sounds amazing. I need to drown out my sorrows with a big glass of wine if I have any hope of enjoying my night out by myself.
And carbs?
Mmm…yes, please.
Thankfully, there’s a yummy restaurant on every corner, and it doesn’t take me long to find a delicious Italian place called Caputo’s. I’ve been dying to try it for months and am pleased when the hostess seats me quickly.
Apparently, a table for one isn’t too hard to come by, although, I didn’t appreciate the funny look she gave me when I mentioned no one would be joining me.
Brat.
I shake off my discomfort and order a tall glass of wine to compliment my sweet potato gnocchi with a garlic cream sauce.
The food comes twenty minutes later, and I enjoy every single bite, letting the unique flavors take me on an Italian adventure that I’m determined to share with Sophie the next time she’s free for dinner.
Slowly, I melt into the wooden chair beneath me as I let the carb overload take full effect. I order another glass of wine and open the Kindle app on my phone before reading a book in the quaint little restaurant.
The waitress refills my drink before slipping the check onto the white table cloth.
“No hurry,” she whispers with a kind smile.
I return it with one of my own. “Thank you.”
Casually, I reach for my wallet when I notice it isn’t there. My brows furrow as I search the table that’s mysteriously lacking my wallet before checking my lap then the concrete floor beneath me.
“Shit,” I whisper to myself.
Frantically, I stand from my seat and
try to take in the table from a different angle, convinced that I brought my purse with me. After ten minutes of searching, the waitress reappears.
“I’m sorry, miss, is there a problem?”
My face loses its color. “Umm…I think I left my wallet at my apartment. I can be back in ten minutes, and I’ll pay you. Promise.”
She scrunches up her face in pity before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t allow that. It’s against our policy. Is there anyone you can call to bring it over?”
I refuse to acknowledge Marcus’s face as it pops into my mind.
Shaking my head, I reach for my phone then slide back into my chair. “I’ll figure it out, I promise. Give me one minute.” I lift my forefinger to show her the number one before rolling my eyes at my childish reaction.
She smiles kindly. “Okay. If you need me, just flag me down.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
Anxiously, I search my contacts, praying I can find someone to come pay for my dinner so I can leave the restaurant.
Sophie and Nathan are obviously off the table, because they’re at a play. Indie’s name pops into my head but…I check the time and note that it’s way past her bedtime. Indie wakes up insanely early to make the pastries for Get Baked, which means she goes to bed earlier than a preschooler.
I squeeze my eyelids shut, praying that a miracle will happen and my purse will magically appear in front of me. Peeking one eye open, I’m greeted with the same white tablecloth and the lack of purse.
Dammit.
Groaning, I pull up my text messaging app.
Nope. Can’t do it.
I put my phone back on the tablecloth then reach for the wine glass. Tipping it back, I let the last few drops of alcohol drip down my throat in hopes of it giving me a little more liquid courage.
They might as well bring the whole bottle.
Looking around, I see the waitress chatting with the manager next to the front door. His eyes are glued to me, and I have no doubt he was just informed that I haven’t paid my bill.
My face scrunches as I give myself another pep talk. Only this time, I’m praying I can work up the humility to text a certain someone who’s definitely on my shit list.
Releasing a sigh, I get to work.
Me: Hi. I need a favor.
M: ?
I roll my eyes. Couldn’t he be super helpful right now and not make me grovel?
Me: It seems I forgot my purse…Could you bring it to me? I’m at Caputo’s. It’s not far. Maybe a couple blocks?
I press send before my rambling fingers can do any more damage.
My attention shoots back to the manager as he eyes me warily.
My heart is racing under his scrutinization.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The word echoes in my head over and over again, until my phone vibrates in my hand.
M: Be there in ten.
Releasing a sigh, I get ready to taste a giant slice of humble pie in the form of a text message.
Me: Thank you.
Chapter Nine
Marcus
I don’t bother to grab Natalie’s purse from the kitchen counter. I know how broke she is and will happily take any opportunity I can find to help her out. Instead, I check my back pocket for my wallet before heading out the front door and locking it behind me.
Natalie wasn’t wrong. The restaurant she chose isn’t far from the apartment, and I’m grateful it won’t take me long to find her. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t comfortable with her going out by herself. It’s not that I don’t trust her or anything, and I know she isn’t my responsibility. It’s just…I feel protective of her. I always have, and it’s only gotten worse the more she pushes me away. Just like tonight.
When I see the white lit-up sign that reads Caputo’s a block away, my feet begin to eat up the distance at a faster pace. Anxiety pulses through me, until I see her sitting at her little table. Her gaze bounces around the restaurant like a frightened little mouse until landing on me. Her relief is instant, and my chest puffs out in response.
Damn right I’ll be your knight in shining armor.
Casually, I make my way over to her before pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from her.
Natalie watches me curiously but doesn’t say a word. I’m pretty sure she’s waiting for a lecture.
Leaning back in my chair, my foot brushes against hers under the table. “Fancy seeing you here,” I note.
My comment seems to break the tension, and she rolls her eyes.
Before she has a chance to rebut, the waitress appears.
“Excuse me, may I get a menu, please?” I ask.
She gives me a shy smile and bats her lashes as a light blush spreads across her cheeks.
If I hadn’t been so focused on Natalie, I wouldn’t have noticed the way her spine straightened at the waitress’s behavior.
“But we’re not staying,” Natalie insists. Her tone is frigid.
I shrug. “Yeah. We are.”
She huffs out her annoyance before planting her elbows on the table and looking directly at me. “No. We’re not.”
The waitress’s attention bounces between the two of us as though she’s witnessing a tennis match. From the corner of my eye, I see her head swivel from left to right over and over again, making me chuckle dryly.
Even though I know it’ll piss Natalie off, I turn my attention back to the waitress.
“I’m sorry for the confusion. Could you bring me another entree of what my girlfriend ordered earlier? And another glass of wine? Thank you.” I send her my signature smirk before setting my eyes on the frustrating beauty across from me. The action effectively dismisses the waitress, and I’m grateful for the privacy.
“Girlfriend?” Natalie scoffs.
If only.
“Well, you seemed a little jealous of her flirting, so…” I let my voice trail off, allowing Natalie to fill in the blank however she sees fit.
Her jaw clenches. “I was not jealous. I’m just frustrated that I have to witness your man-whoring ways firsthand. That’s all. Especially when you won’t let a guy come within ten feet of me without having an aneurysm. Just sayin’.”
I can tell she’s trying to get under my skin, so I decide to change the subject. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Her brows furrow in confusion before her expression melts into embarrassment.
“Oh yeah. That.”
Grinning, I mimic, “Yeah. That.”
“Thanks for bringing my purse. I suppose it’s only fair I buy you some dinner,” she huffs, hiding behind her sassy bravado.
“Nah. This one’s on me.”
She tilts her head to assess me, and I assume she’s trying to figure out whether I’m babying her or not. “You don’t need to pay for me, Marcus. I can take care of myself.”
By some miracle, I refrain from rolling my eyes and pointing out the obvious. If she could take care of herself, I wouldn’t be here now, would I?
Instead, I bite my tongue and search for an ounce of honesty instead of hiding behind the protective brother role I’ve always taken with her. My gaze keeps her frozen in her seat as the soft Italian music plays through the speakers.
“I know you can take care of yourself, Nat. You’ve always been one to have your shit together.” I clear my throat. “I’m sorry I’ve always been kind of an ass and made you question it.”
Her eyes widen in surprise before softening.
The waitress appears before she has a chance to respond and sets down a filled wine glass in front of me. Without saying a word, Natalie reaches across the table and grabs the goblet before pressing it to her lips and taking a deep pull of the dark, red liquid.
When she’s finished, she smiles awkwardly and sets the drink back down in front of me. I motion to the waitress who watches Natalie’s actions, her jaw almost touching the floor. Smirking, I motion to my glass. “I think we’re going to need a refill.”
The waitr
ess laughs before leaving with the intention of filling it up.
“Sorry about that.” Natalie tilts her head to the wine. “It’s been a really long day and…if I’m being completely honest, I never thought…” she pauses before chewing on her lower lip.
“Thought what, Nat?”
“Well,” she huffs. “I thought hell would have to freeze over before you ever apologized for anything.”
A gut-wrenching laugh explodes from my stomach as I watch her cheeks heat at my outburst. “Touché,” I offer.
She smiles, softening at my admittance to being a stubborn ass.
“So what put you in the mood for a dinner for one?” I probe, changing the subject.
The waitress stops by with a fresh glass of wine and places it in front of Natalie knowingly before setting an incredible smelling entree in front of me. Afterward, she disappears to her next table.
“I was supposed to have a date with Sophie, and something came up. I was starving so…I guess I decided I could be a big girl and go out by myself, ya know?”
I put a piece of orange gnocchi in my mouth before moaning at the unique flavor. She grins.
“Good, huh?”
I nod. “This is fantastic.”
“Sweet potato gnocchi. I’ve decided I need to learn how to make it.”
“You cook?” I can’t help the surprise that seeps into my voice.
She nods excitedly. “Sure do! I just started but…I’m kind of in love with it.”
“That’s amazing, Nat. Seriously. I didn’t know you had a thing for cooking.” I take another bite of pasta, watching Natalie’s expression go from open and passionate to guarded and somber.
“You don’t know a lot about me, Marcus,” she admonishes before taking another sip of wine. Her glass this time.
I lick my lips before disagreeing, “I think you might be surprised.”