Within just a few steps of him, I have Max, the oral surgeon, making a run for me. “Baby,” he calls out.
Baby. We’re now at the point of him calling me baby after just three or four encounters.
“I’m not your baby’,” I tell him.
He slips his arm around my waist and lowers his mouth to my neck. “I can show you my own kind of social study if you’d like.”
“Max, you have to stop. I’m not into you, let it go.”
“Ouch, Ash, that’s rough. You haven’t even given me a fair chance to prove to you how happy we could be together.”
I want to run. Yup, I am going to run. This guy is like that zombie I don’t want to come face to face with at the end of a bad apocalypse movie. “You know what else is rough?” I respond.
“The way I kiss?” he purrs, following his question. I’m officially grossed out by what is, sadly, a good-looking man—a waste of looks for sure.
“Watch me walk away, Max. Just watch me walk away.”
Noah doesn’t move an inch during the time it takes me to make my way over to him. “I’m sorry,” is the first thing out of his mouth.
“I get it. You’re here for other reasons like you said.”
“When all else is gone, I knew I’d have my success and business to fall back on,” he says. “I thought I knew what I was getting myself into here, but I was wrong.”
Chapter 16
I decidedto hide out in my room until it was time to go to work today. I figure the less interaction I have with these men, the better I'll be at this point. I feel like the thoughts in my head are a ping-pong ball flying back and forth between assumptions and understanding. I want to leave, but I want to stay. I want to punish some of these men, but I feel bad for some. They have been living in seclusion for the sake of money. Is money worth a person’s sanity?
The lunch shift at The Clam Pit is a little wilder today than it was yesterday. I like the feeling of keeping busy versus standing around, waiting for my next table. I experienced a lot of those types of shifts when working in the diner back in Connecticut.
I’ve said very few words to Noah in passing since I arrived at the restaurant. I was cordial and friendly, but it was similar to the way I might chat to someone on the street.
Noah seems to be sporting a look of concern as he greets patrons and checks in on tables to make sure everything is going well.
Our eyes meet often, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and I’m not sure about the thoughts fleeting through my head either. There’s this notion I have, though: I can’t have Noah, and I can’t control the fact that it makes me want him a little more now. I loved spending the bit of time together with him yesterday and learning about his past, but it seems dumb to continue a friendship with a man I’m attracted to, yet can’t pursue.
My next table has been seated in the corner of the outdoor balcony overlooking the water. It’s a man dining alone, and his back is toward me, with his menu open and erect resting on the table in front of him.
I place my hand on his shoulder so as not to startle him. “Welcome to The Clam Pit. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
“I could drink you up all day,” he says.
The voice is like a nail dragging across metal. “Max, what are you doing here?”
He smirks his mouthful of white veneers and places his hand on my elbow. “I missed my girl and wanted to come and see you for lunch.”
“Max,” I grunt, “I am not your girl, and you need to stop this crap.”
“Listen to me, baby,” he continues. “All you have to do is stick this out with me for the next six months, and we can live a happy life together without a care in the world. Isn’t that what you want?”
“No, Max. I don’t want a life with you, and I don’t think I’ve given you any impression to make you think otherwise.”
“Please, Ash, just give me a chance to show you what love can be.”
The handful of cereal I shoved down my throat this morning before I left for work is starting to churn in my stomach.
“Please stop. What can I get you to eat?” I continue.
“Take your clothes off and lay down on the table,” he says.
