I’ve been waiting and longing for him to say something for what feels like forever, but the moment his eyes meet mine, I want to freak out because he looks ready to actually ask me something.
I cross my fingers under the table.
Please don’t be a personal question. Ask to see my room. Ask if I’d like another drink — to go. Just don’t ask me about myself.
If he wastes his time getting to know me, he’s only going to uncover more quirks. Too many quirks. He’ll run for the hills, for sure. He’s made a valiant effort to stick around this long. I mean, he’s already achieved unicorn status by being the only guy who’s ever beenintriguedby my infernal note-making.
It’s possible he’s drunk.
I appraise him with a wary eye. He’s stoic, solid, and stable-looking, but is that his norm? Without a baseline, I can’t adequately estimate his level of intoxication. Hopefully, he’s nottoodrunk. As I understand it, that can interfere with a man’s sexual performance, and my plans for the night require him to be fully functional. If he backs out on me, I may just stay a virgin forever.
“What happened to you before you arrived here with a thirst for tequila shots and beer?” he asks carefully.
Fuck.
I avoid his eyes and twist my empty beer bottle in a circle. Bates takes the bottle from me and uses it to signal a nearby server to bring over another.
“I won’t judge,” he insists. “I’d just like to know if I’m meant to be a revenge fuck. It changes how I’d do things.”
I chew on the end of my pencil as I study his calm expression. He’s definitely got experience on his side. I flip my notepad open to a fresh page and make a note to add information aboutrevenge fuckingto my intimate relationships spreadsheet, then I clear my throat and meet his eyes. “Can you please explain your definition of a revenge fuck to me with clear parameters?”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “I’m asking if you want to fuck me to get back at someone else.”
“Oh.” I make a quick note to consider the potential outcomes of that and set my notepad aside. “No. I don’t think using someone like that is very nice. You’re not a revenge fuck. I mean, you wouldn’t be. Once we’ve… fucked. We haven’t yet, so I couldn’t call you that now, but I also wouldn’t call you that after.”
His lips do the twitching thing again. “Thanks for clarifying.”
My heart sinks. He thinks I’m a joke.
I pick up my notebook and stand.
“Where are you going?” Bates asks as the server puts a fresh beer on the table. “What did I do?”
The set of his eyes suggests he’s both confused and concerned.
“You’re laughing at me.”
He crosses his big arms over his broad chest. “I’m doing no such thing.”
Very familiar with being a laughingstock, I pull my eyebrows down in a harsh frown. “I saw your lips twitch and your eyes sparkle. You find me amusing.”
He nods. “Yes. Very. And I don’t doubt that you’ve had my eyes sparkling since you walked in. But I’m notlaughingat you.”
Confused, I glance at the door and then at the very serious and disturbingly sexy man across the table. “What are you doing, then?”
“Enjoying the way you talk to me.” His energy seems genuine as he washes his warm gaze over me. “It’s different, and honest, and I like it,” he says, almost shyly. “It makes me want to smile — except I’m trying not to smile so big it’ll scare you. I’m just… I’m having a nice time, and I’m also pleased to learn that I won’t be a... three-dot squiggle RF,” he says, peeking at the visible page of my notebook. “I’m appreciating you, not mocking you or trying to make you feel bad about how your brain works. Ilikehow your brain works. Will you sit down again? Please?”
Is he serious?
I sit down as slowly as I can with my suddenly weak knees and an intense swoon threatening to take full effect. I nearly knock the table over with my lack of ability to play things cool.
Bates catches my drink before it can spill and steadies the table with his other hand before it can tip.
“You okay?” He holds back my beer, as if I need to answer the question correctly before he’ll hand it over.
“I’m fine. You just… had a startling effect on my motor skills. I’m not used to people saying things like that to me.”
“What things?Nicethings?” he asks, his tone going up in pitch as if that’s absurd. “People don’t saynice things to you?”
