“I want you,” he said on a breath. “And I’m going to have you.”
I couldn’t speak; my lungs didn’t work. I commanded myself to take in air and blow it out my nose. “Drew,” I said, as if his name were the only word in my vocabulary.
“Have you eaten?”
I shook my head to clear the cobwebs of confusion—he was like an emotional boomerang this morning—but he took it as my response.
“Great. Let’s go eat.” He flung his arm around me and pulled me against his side, grazing my ear with his lips.
“I’m not dressed to eat ... to go anywhere.”
“Sure you are. You just need to do this.” He tugged on my knot and gave my hair free rein to do what it wanted, which was to curl around my face.
“Drew.”
“Enough with my name. I know who I am. And what happened to King Drew?”
“He left,” I said bitterly.
“He didn’t want to.”
As if on cue, my stomach gurgled.
“Come on. I’m going to feed you.”
With his arm wrapped around me, Drew guided me to a ritzy twenty-four-hour diner just a block away. I hadn’t eaten at the Purple Stallion yet, mostly because it was out of my price range with all the expensive tennis equipment I had to buy, and the upcoming birthday party.
We walked inside the metal building, fashioned after an old-school diner, and a brass bell chimed overhead. The inside was all shades of purple, from the linoleum to a huge glass-shelved bar lining the back. TVs hung over the bar, and miniature carousel ponies dangled from the ceiling. The place was outrageously gaudy and super cool at the same time.
The smell of fresh-brewed coffee and cinnamon filled the air, making my stomach growl.
Drew flashed the hostess two fingers, never letting me go.
“Toward the back,” he said in a hushed tone when the hostess came close. “Something semi-private, a booth?”
“Gotcha.” She led us to a small booth in the back, a window on one side and the drink station on the other.
I slid into the booth, and rather than sit opposite me, Drew squeezed in next to me. His thigh hit mine, and I would like to say I wasn’t a goner, but I was.
Heat, old feelings, unanswered questions, and new curiosities clung to every cell in my body.
Jules
“Hey, welcome to the Stallion. Old-timers or virgins?”
I wondered if the waitress was some sort of clairvoyant. Drew and I were definitely old-timers when it came to each other, and definitely not virgins.
Of course, she barely glanced at me, yet couldn’t keep her batty eyes off Drew.
“Two coffees, milk instead of cream,” he said, ignoring her cute face, blatant flirting, and curvy physique. Instead, he turned to face me.
“I still take milk.”
Crap, I don’t why that came out of my mouth.
“I figured.” His finger caught a loose hair, pushed it behind my ear, and he leaned close.
“I know. That was stupid of me. I’m all out of focus or brains when it comes to you. Just like old times, but I have no idea what it means.” With him in my personal space, my voice was quiet and timid, my brain barely able to fire synapses.
