“Ask what?” I murmured, spellbound and so freaking turned on. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this way with my ex, if ever. He’d been more of a lights off and under the covers kinda guy. Something told me Mal wasn’t about that. He probably preferred an audience.
I shivered at the thought.
He chewed and swallowed before reaching for his water glass. “About what I do. You’re not curious?”
I lifted a shoulder. “We can talk about it if you want.”
“No.” He shook his head. “I mean, I don’t want to. It’s why I’m here. To get away from that. From everything, really.”
His babbling was endearing. I smiled at him.
He shrugged. “I’m just surprised. Most girls want to know what’s up. Exploit it if they can. Get what they want from me—sex, clout, money.” He shrugged again, staring down at his tuna bowl. “Can’t remember the last time someone didn’t look at me and mentally catalogue what I was worth.”
“Well, that’s sad.”
He snorted in agreement and tipped his head. “It’s the sad truth.”
“If it’s a contest—I can see your sad story and raise you an even sadder one. I guarantee you, I’ll win by a mile.” I sighed and traced my fork through my bowl. Just thinking about the wholescene I fled back home made my stomach knot. “But like you, I’m here trying to get away from everything.”
“It’s good to leave the heaviness of life behind and just be in the moment, huh?”
I nodded. “You have no idea.”
“No, you have no idea, but thank you. I like you, Saylor Tate.”
“Thanks.” I smiled back at him. “I like you, Mal Whatever-Your-Last-Name-Is-Again.”
He chuckled lightly then picked up his chopsticks and dug into his tuna bowl.
The earlier sexual tension fell away, and I felt a companionable warmth just being in Mal’s company. It was hard to be annoyed at that.
Maybe I’d get a handle on this whole being single thing.
Eventually.
Once we’d stuffed ourselves with tuna, chicken, and a delicious chocolate cake, we stumbled across the dark beach, lit only by torches lining the path.
“Thank you for rescuing me back there.” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the dining space we’d just left. “This whole being single thing is going to take some getting used to.”
Mal nodded. “I think it’s important to be okay with yourself before you try being part of a couple.”
I groaned. “I’m not nearly drunk enough to get philosophical tonight.”
“Noted.” Mal laughed lightly. “Although if that was an invitation to have a drink back at your place, I should tell you that I’m sober.”
“Really?”
“Yup. Going on eight years now.”
“Wow. Congrats. That’s a feat. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“Is this a bad time to point out that eight years ago I was fourteen?”
Mal groaned and clutched at his chest. “You’re killing me here, baby girl.”
I snickered. Looking up at him, I was relieved to see that he was smiling back at me. I didn’t want him to think the age difference was a deterrent in any way.
