“Cute,” she noted, peering through the windshield. “But why?”
“Because you didn’t want to be home and neither did I. Now stop asking questions and get out.” I caught her sexy little smirk as I slammed my door.
She followed after me into the diner, sliding into the blood red booth so we were facing one another.
“Get whatever you want.” I slid her a menu without needing one for myself.
Paula, the owner’s wife shuffled over ready to take our orders. “Hey hun, didn’t expect to see you today.”
She never expected to see me, and she still said this every time she did.
“I want my usual, and she wants…”
“The pound puppies and sausage.”
“And to drink?” Paula questioned with a slight smile.
“OJ–orange juice.”
“You ordered off the kids menu,” I said once Paula walked off.
“I always do. Their food seems to taste better. I didn’t bring my purse though.”
“You don’t need it. When you’re with me, money is the last thing to worry about.”
“I didn’t want it for money. I wanted it for the––never mind. What do you mean when I’m with you? Is this going to be a thing? Us at a honky-tonk diner? You in that flashy get-up looking thoroughly exhausted and me in booty shorts with my face slightly swollen?”
“You just asked four questions. I told you not to ask any.”
She shrugged, thanking Paula when she brought our drinks over.
We fell into an almost companionable silence after that which continued when the food came.
I watched her eat, the way she refused to let the syrup touch the sausage links and cut her pancakes into perfect squares before stacking them in a pile.
Her long hair was down, hanging over her shoulders. I could see the tops of her thighs from my side of the table. She put her full concentration on her food––I liked that––among many other things. I liked how naturally beautiful she was even with her slightly puffy face. I liked that she didn’t stare at me with dollar signs or celebrity-filled awe in her brown eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked her.
“I had a moment. You helped,” she vaguely replied.
I accepted that answer for now. She and I were inevitable. I had time.
“So what now?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
She grew quiet. I watched her struggle to find words, and then she looked at me and I saw it. Her eyes were full of poorly veiled curiosity and hidden behind a shield of wavering bravado was a fear of what I could do to her––what I inevitablywoulddo to her. That fear was my stimulant.
With a slight clearing of her throat, her mask was back in place but it only added to what I already knew. My twisted angel had secrets. I would extract every single one of them.
“How much do you know about me?”
“I know many things about you, Elena. The question is: what don’t I know about you? And how long do you think it’s going to take me to find out?”
“Why do you want to know me at all?”
I would one day tell her I’d been infatuated with her since the very first time I saw her, five years ago.
