“You said you had business with me,” I reminded him. “But tonight is not one of the nights I am scheduled to,” before I could finish the sentence I wiggled my fingers in those annoying air quotes, “work. If you remember we worked out a Monday, Thursday schedule.”
“You are right. But I forgot to get your number last night. Ridiculous oversight on my part. But I was a little distracted, so….”
I rolled my eyes. Way too obvious. How in the world did he get so many girls? “Why do we need to exchange phone numbers? We have a schedule; I’ll be there when I’m supposed to. I’m very reliable. If you need me more than that you just have to work it out with me when you see me.”
He stared at me, hard. His dark chocolate eyes were intense and thoughtful; the only thing softening his expression was the small quirk of his lips like he was trying to hold back whatever he wanted to say. Meanwhile electricity seemed to zip back and forth between us, charging the air. Maybe it was one sided on my part, but even his hands, as they rested just inches above mine, felt like a physical weight against my skin. There was this invisible pull, this complete awareness of everything about him and I was becoming helpless to acknowledge it. The only problem was that if I let myself recognize I felt thisstrengthbetween us, what was I supposed to do with it?
“I’m sure you are very reliable,” he finally said sounding sincere. “But I might need you in an emergency. Or you might need to get ahold of me.” When I opened my mouth to protest he continued quickly, “Like if you get sick. Instead of having me hunt you down again, you could just text me and let me know you can’t make it.”
A vision of me in my rattiest sweats, my hair a matted mess, leftover puke dried in the corner of my lips and a cold sheen of sweat running down my temples while I answered the door to an irate Fin made that hypothetical situation crystal clear. He had a point, and I didn’t really feel inclined to argue with him anymore.
“Ok, that’s a decent enough reason.” I pulled my phone from my apron and opened it to my contacts. “Give it to me.” I held my thumb poised over the touchscreen keypad, ready to act.
“Here, let’s just switch phones. That will be easier.”
I thought over the repercussions of handing Fin my phone, but in the end relented. I could easily keep an eye on him for thirty sEconds. With the swap of phones I entered my number into his contacts list, saved it and then discretely scrolled through the rest of his contacts with a casual swipe of my thumb. So. Many. Girls.
In fact, so many girls with only first name entries. Which told me he didn’t have to try very hard to earn their number and they didn’t care enough to make him.
I stifled a groan and then held his phone up impatiently while he finished entering his number into my phone. “Did you come here on purpose? Or is running into you just a coincidence?”
He traded phones with me, and then shoved it into his pocket without even glancing at my entry. Either I was way too suspicious of people for no reason other than I grew up with three, pranking, cruel brothers. Or he was just used to people- read girls- doing whatever he wanted them to.
“I’ve known you work here since you entered my game,” he said matter of factly as if all his extensive knowledge of my life should not still freak me out. “But I don’t know your schedule because you haven’t given it to me yet. So this was coincidence.”
“Oh,” I breathed, feeling silly for thinking he searched me out.
“But I can’t deny that I chose this place hoping I would find you working tonight,” he smiled crookedly at me, innocent and a little embarrassed.
Ok, I wasn’t feeling silly anymore. I was feeling a thrill of pleasure. No, that was wrong. I was feeling aflare of panicbecause he was obviously stalking me and it was obnoxious if not a little scary.
“So we could exchange numbers,” I hedged.
“Yep.”
That was way too casual. I looked down at my phone, deciding to ignore him and went about changing Fin Hunter to Econ Tutor. I smiled a little at my inside joke.
“What did you just do?” he demanded and plucked my phone from my fingers before I could stop him. “Econ Tutor? Why don’t you want my name in your phone?”
Did he sound hurt?
No, obviously not.
“I have three brothers that routinely go through my recent calls and text messages. I really don’t want them finding out about any of this.” I tilted my chin defiantly when something flashed in his eyes. Not anything like hurt, because then I might have felt bad. It was more like challenge, possession. And those were emotions I did not feel equipped to defuse.
“Are you…. embarrassed of knowing me?” he asked like he didn’t really want the answer.
“What? No, I’m embarrassed of being in this stupid situation. Of owing you money I don’t really owe you,” I explained in a rushed whisper when more customers came through the door. “Now go away, you have my number and I have to get back to work.”
“When are you going to finish the rest of your hours this week?” His eyes flickered intense black and then softened to that deep, melty chocolate I wanted to gaze into for hours at a time. He slid his hands forward so that his fingers were only an inch from mine, his palms tipped downward. One subtle movement from either of us and our fingertips would be touching.
“Um, it will have to be Monday,” I whispered hurriedly, anxious to get him away from me. “I work the next three days here.”
“You’re four hours short this week,” he reminded with an authoritative edge to his voice.
“Well, the only time I am not working this weekend is Sunday morning and afternoon and I have things and homework to catch up on,” I hissed in reply.
“You could work for me instead of going for your Sunday run,” he suggested deviously.
