“I’m still waiting for that coffee,” she goes on, suggestively.
“Yeah, sooner or later,” he says, his beautiful face hard.
“Well, I was just going out with some friends…We’re going into town, to theGeorge. We’re going dancing. Maybe you could come with us, when you’re done here…?” she says, shooting daggers at me.
“Sure, you got it,” he nods, before grabbing my arm again and pulling me into his apartment.
He slams the door behind us then lets go of my arm again. He paces frustratedly into the living room, then turns to face me.
He’s angry. I can see it, I can feel it. He doesn’t like that I’ve come here, interrupted his conversation with the Barbie goddess. He’s annoyed that he’s here entertaining me when he could be getting dressed and heading out with her. I’ve realised that he isn’t someone who likes to waste his time.
Anger climbs up my throat, and it tastes bitter – almost like jealousy. But it melts on my tongue.
“I’m sorry for just turning up like this. I didn’t want to intrude, or make you late for a date.”
He suddenly looks at me, his glare pinning me down.
“I can see that you’ve got someone waiting for you,” I say resentfully. But my voice sounds alien, even to me.
“Sorry?”
“That…girl,” I say, waving towards the door.
“Let me understand something…” he steps closer to me, and I flatten myself against the door. “You came here, to my house, unannounced, invaded my privacy…” he leans a hand against the wood, next to my head, “…and now you’re making a scene because a girl asked me out?”
I swallow nervously, as he leans the other hand on the other side of my head.
“Why are you here, Christine? What the hell do you want from me?”
He’s speaking right onto my lips. His voice is dark, but his gaze is lit up, dangerous.
I can feel my legs trembling, and an unexpected heat spreading through my body.
“I’ll just go,” I say, trying to turn myself around and open the door, but he pushes himself against me.
“No. Not so fast.”
