Page 14 of 28 Dates
I lift my hand quickly. “I think we’re ready to order.” I might say it too fast. But really? He lives with his mom? I flash him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just the lunch hour and all, and work is waiting for me.”
“Sure,” he says. He takes the small menu. While he scans it, I give my order for the soup I’ve been craving all morning as well as a latte. If Brett’s bothered by my sudden need to hurry this date along, he doesn’t show it.
After our waiter leaves, I go back to where we left off. “So you live with your mom?”
He frowns, as if this isn’t surprising information given the fact we’re in our late twenties. “Well, sure. She’s the best cook I know, and why pay for rent when she takes care of everything?”
Yes, why indeed. How silly of me. I change the subject. “So you work in finance. What do you do?”
“I balance checkbooks.”
That’s not exactly a job description. “So you work in personal finance, then? Like at a bank.”
“No.” Brett shakes his head and reaches across the table to my hand. Before I can slide it out of his reach, he takes my fingers in his. This is getting more uncomfortable by the moment, and I’ve almost forgotten what I asked him when he says, “I balance my mom’s checkbook. She pays me.”
Ummm. Hm. I don’t know what to say to that except that I’d like my hand back. He really is rather sweaty. I tug on my hand harder, but his hands tighten. Alarm bells ding.
“You’re very beautiful,” he says again, and that cute look in his eyes I first noticed changes to something else. Something weird, like that part in the horror movie where you just know something bad is about to happen. His eyes are the creepy background music. “And you’re very petite. I bet you have cute toes.”
“Excuse me?” I jerk my hand, but he holds on. I can make a scene, and I should. There are people at the tables nearby, and one woman glances at me. Like she knows I’m about to be in trouble.
The fact that she’s paying attention helps, but before I can tug my hand away again, Brett leans forward. “I’d like to see them.”
“Them?” He can’t be meaning…
“Your toes,” he says. He licks his lips, and oh my God what a freaking creep.
I yank my hand from his. I have to pull so hard to remove it from his grasp, the table shakes, knocking over the salt and pepper shakers. “I think I should go.”
“I think I’d like to see them.” It’s like I haven’t spoken. His eyes are glazed over as if he’s already imagining something. “In the bathroom. Will you show me? I bet they’ll taste delicious.”
I might puke if I stay.
“Oh my God. No.” I reach for my coat and scarf. Screw my food. This is officially beyond a normal lunch date, and I’m out of here. “Hell no.” I stand on that pronouncement, bumping the table, I move with such speed. And as I turn, the woman who had glanced at me shoots me wide eyes.
I turn back to Brett, who’s also standing, coat draped over his arm. “That’s okay, we can go somewhere else.”
“No. You’re making me uncomfortable. Don’t follow me, and don’t message me again. This isn’t okay.”
I turn and flee. I don’t even look back to see if he’s following, but oh my goodness. What in the world just happened? My hands are shaking like leaves as I dig my keys out of my purse, and by the time I reach my car, my body is trembling.
Oh my God. If this is what online dating is like, no thank you very much. I’m not prepared for this at all. Toes? Bathrooms? The whole thing is so far outside my wheelhouse I’m too rattled to return home. What if he follows me? What if when he said “bathroom,” he meantmybathroom? I don’t know if he left the restaurant, but Brett is definitely a few clues short of getting the hint.
I won’t return home. Not yet. Trey’s in meetings all day, and I don’t even want to go to his place. If this creep follows me, I’m not leading him to my building, either. I take a couple moments to breathe, settle my nerves, and evaluate my options. In truth, there’s only one safe place for me to go, so once I’m certain I can drive safely, I throw my car into gear and get the heck out of there.
—
You’re not home.
At least let me know you’re alive.
I scowl at my phone and the texts from Trey. He’s worried about me and with good reason.
At the first stoplight, despite it being illegal and after double-checking to ensure I wasn’t being followed, I’d typed out a quick text.
OMG. DATE FROM HELL. There are psychos out there who seem normal!!!!
I haven’t answered a text from him since. The man deserves to suffer as much as I currently am.
