Because I looked harder than I should’ve.
“A mask that covers a couple of inches above and below your eyes doesn’t disguise much,” I chuckle.
“It still doesn’t make sense. You saw me once at the restaurant.”
She made an impression. From the copper flames on her head to her chameleon eyes to the dimples in her cheeks, I couldn’t forget her. Not in a few days. And the more we run into each other, the harder it is to stop thinking about her. It’s a problem I need to fix because even now, I can feel my fascination growing. Maybe it’s the way I’m able to get a reprieve from the other shit in my mind when I’m around her. It could be the intrigue of having something you shouldn’t want—can’t have. Or it might just be that she’s a new face. Not one of the same girls I’ve seen off and on most of my life, because, except for Casey, it’s obvious we don’t travel in the same social circles.
But none of that feels right either. It seems too simple and shallow. This woman has had my attention since the restaurant. Confidence. Sharp wit. Unafraid to call my bullshit. All of it makes her an appealing… Distraction.
But I’m not about to tell her any of that. “I have a good memory.” Not a lie. My memory is excellent as long as I don’t give myself chemical amnesia.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she hisses.
“Truth?”
“No, asshole, lie to me.”
I grin widely at her snark. “We really didn’t know each other that night at the fights. I figured it would make you uncomfortable if you realized I recognized you.”
“But you could’ve said something after the ballet.”
I lift a brow. “So could you.”
“Touché, asshole.”
“I was giving you a chance to confess.”
“I couldn’t.” Her eyes widen, and she reaches across the table, grabbing my hand. “You can’t tell anyone at the club. I needthat job. Shit.” She jerks away from me, scrubbing both hands down her face. “And if the ballet company finds out—”
“Don’t worry.” I cut her off to stop her mini-meltdown. “I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“Casey, too, please. I know I’m not doing anything wrong, but…” she trails off, biting her lip.
“Your secret is safe. But whyareyou working there? And don’t say money. Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”
“That’s private.”
“Fine, but I’ll get it out of you, eventually.” I shrug my shoulders, taking a sip of the hot drink and grinning behind the cup. “We’ve swapped spit. That makes us besties now. Maybe we should have a sleepover and braid each other’s hair.” A laugh tumbles from her chest, and her hazel eyes dance. It twists my insides in the strangest way, taking me by surprise. Needing it to go away, I clear my throat and change the subject. “So, you must come here a lot if they know your order.”
Her tongue darts out, swiping the bit of mocha decorating those lush lips. My jaw ticks, unable to stop myself from following the motion. “At least twice a week. More if I can. I’ve been coming here since I was a teenager.”
I nod my head toward the counter when Tom is staring daggers at me. “Are you sure nothing is going on there? He looks jealous.”
Her brows dip when she looks over her shoulder. A soft sigh escapes her as she subtly shakes her head. “I’m sure, but he has asked me out once or twice. He’s nice. Just not my type.”
“And whatisyour type?” I waggle my brows already knowing the answer.
She pokes her tongue out at me before she turns thoughtful, shrugging her shoulders. “I really don’t know. I just know it’s not him. He’s too…nice?” She covers her face with her hands and giggles. And that’s the problem with girls who don’t wantnice guys. People like Tom are safe. Like me? We leave bruises. “God, that sounds awful. I don’t mean it the way it sounds. It doesn’t matter what my type is, anyway. I don’t have time for boyfriends or dating.”
I can understand that. Especially given what I know about her. It’s perfect, really. She doesn’t have time for dating. I don’t have time to be someone’s mistake. “You mentioned that the other night. So you like to keep things casual?”
“More or less. It’s just easier.” She props her elbows on the table and rests her chin on her palms. “What about you, pretty boy?”
“I think we established that already, too,” I chuckle.
“So, which one did you give your attention to last night?” She wiggles her brows and grins. “Marci or Debbie?”
“Uhhh.” It shouldn’t bother me, but my face heats because I didn’t know their names.
