How can he keep up with me while holding a mug of tea and drinking it at the same time without spilling? Someone like that can’t be trusted.
“I don’t want company.”
“I can see that, but you haven’t experienced my company. You see, I can be a very?—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” I say, turning to him and holding up my hand. “Whatever you’re about to say, I don’t want to hear it, okay? I’m stressed beyond belief with this whole candy store thing. I need the money for it and I’m not able to get it. I have to hand the keys to the store back, because as they predicted, I failed. I’m having a hard time stomaching that. So the last thing I need is some British manhole who thinks he’scharming and can win me over, when all I really want to do is pull your shorts off and dump your tea right on your dick.”
He doesn’t reply right away. Instead, he slowly takes a sip of his tea and then holds his mug out to the side, dumping the rest in the sewer drain. Smiling hesitantly, he says, “Just in case.”
“Ughhhh.” I move past him once again.
And just like last time, he catches up to me, but this time he stands in front of me, blocking my path.
When I shoot a very murderous glare at him, he holds his hands up. “I understand you have other ways you can torture me that don’t involve tea, so I’m being cautious here. What’s with this ‘candy store’ thing? You never really explained that. Why does everyone think you’re going to fail?”
“I’m not talking to you about this.”
“Why not?”
“Uh, because you’re a stranger. Why would I tell a stranger about my life?”
“If I were a psychologist, you’d tell me, and psychologists are strangers at first. Lucky for you, I took a few psychology classes while attending university.”
“I’m not talking to you.”
I attempt to move past him, but he moves with me. “So you need money, that’s the problem?”
“Why won’t you let this go? I said I am not?—”
“I have money, lots of it. Why don’t you take some of mine? How much do you need?”
I pause, my brain short-circuiting for a second.
He has money?
Could I do that?
Could I actually take money from him?
Wait…does he even have money, or is he just saying that? After all, he pretended to be concussed yesterday.And pretended to be a lord of something.
“I can see that you’re having a hard time processing what I just said. That’s okay. It’s not every day you come across a future lord?—”
“For the love of God,” I grumble and then move past him. I can’t believe I even thought for a second that he?—
“I’m not lying,” he says, his voice growing serious, just serious enough to stop me. I slowly turn to look at him. “I’m not lying,” he repeats softly. “How much do you need?”
I’m going to pretend for a second that him offering me money is not insulting, because after all, pride means nothing when you’re desperate. But from the looks of it, he’s serious.
I nibble on the side of my cheek, trying to figure out whether I should tell him or not.
He already knows my full name, where I live, and the main problem in my life. For a stranger, that’s way too much information. I don’t think I should tell him any more.
Then again, what does it really matter at this point?
“It’s a lot, so don’t even worry about it.”
“What’s a lot?” he asks.
