“Oh, please.” She grabs another pot, filling it with fresh brew. “I see the way he looks at you, and I don’t just mean your face. I’ve seen that man’s eyes all over your ass, and honestly, who can blame him? You’ve got a great ass.”
“Mandy.” Heat creeps into my cheeks.
“Please! Don’t act like Mother Teresa.” She tosses her reddish-brown hair over her shoulder and gives me a look that says she’s not letting this go. “You’re a woman, same as me, and women have needs. That man would have no problem fulfilling whatever fantasies you have in that little head of yours.”
I grab the sugar caddy so I have something to do with my hands. “I don’t have fantasies.”
There I go lying. There’s definitely one I can’t stop seeing whenever I’m alone doing things to myself that I’m definitely not telling my only friend about.
It usually starts with Kirill finding me at a bar. Some stranger is talking to me, flirting a little, before he appears behind me, his body strung tight because he’s jealous. He says my name, all deep and raspy, then grabs my hips and turns me to him, his eyes so intense that I shiver. He runs the back of his hand over my cheek, so soft that I melt into it.
Then he leans down to my ear, his body pressed to mine as he says, “If I see you talking to another man again, it won’t be good for him.”
His hand wraps around my throat and his mouth hovers right over mine before he drags me into a dark hallway and takes me hard against the wall.
My thighs press together and I clear my throat, dragging myself back into fluorescent lights, sticky menus, and the scent of burnt bacon.
I really need to stop doing that.
When I glance at Mandy, she’s watching me, those dark eyes narrowed like she can see straight through my skull.
“You were picturing him fucking you, weren’t you?” She grins. “You little slut.”
“Oh my God, Mandy, we’re at work.” I laugh under my breath as I head toward the kitchen window to grab the cheeseburger for table four.
Of course, she follows. “I knew it! I bet you’re freakier than me.”
“I promise you, that is not true.” I shake my head and reposition the plate. “I’ve only had sex once.”
She stops short like I just told her the sky is green, and her hand lands on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I promise we’ll fix that.”
A snort slips out. “I don’t want it fixed.”
“Lies,” she calls after me as I weave between tables, and a smile pulls at my mouth despite everything.
We couldn’t be more different, and I love her for that.
I head for table four, balancing the cheeseburger plate in one hand and the mug in my other, then set everything down in front of the man in a suit who’s talking on his cell and ignoring me.
“I told you I need that report right now!” he shouts. “And that means right. Fucking. NOW!”
Okay, then…
I’m already turning away when his voice snaps like a whip.
“Hey. You!”
My stomach drops before I even face him. He holds the mug away from his body like it’s contaminated.
“What is this?” His lip curls. “I told you a splash of cream. Asplash. Do you not understand what that means?”
The air thins around me. “I’m so sorry. I can remake it. It’s not a problem.”
“Oh, itisa problem.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Are you stupid? How hard is it to pour a splash? You people can’t even do the simplest thing right.”
The words slide right through my skin like they’ve been here before. Table four instantly dissolves, and I’m back in Mom’s kitchen with the hiss of her cigarette, her voice tearing through the house.
Look at this mess! Are you blind? How many times do I have to tell you? Dumb girl. Always messing up and ruining everything.
