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I scoff at his arrogance. “None of your damn business. What is this? An interrogation?”
He growls, making my spine stiffen. As if sensing that I’ve tensed, he softens his features. “I just want to know you.” His voice is soft, making me relax some.
“Twenty-one.” The lie rolls from my mouth easily.
He nods. “Now, what is a girl like you doing in a place like this?”
I groan as I rub at my tired eyes. I’ve had this question asked a couple of times. People don’t seem to understand that when you’re desperate, you will do almost anything. “I need to eat, pay my bills. It pays better than working in a diner or a grocery store.”
He seems to mull over my words for a long beat before speaking again. “Did you not go to school?”
My heart pounds in my chest as my whole body turns rigid with his question. It’s a basic question, sure, but one I could easily trip up on if I don’t think carefully. “Of course, I did. I just didn’t have the money to go to college. That’s why I’m here. I applied for community college and figured I could make good money here while studying.”
His thumb runs across his full bottom lip, drawing my attention. I lick my lips at the thought of him kissing me, of those lips running over my body, and I shiver. “Mmm,” he hums, and I bring my eyes back to his. My cheeks heat as he smirks, and I drop my eyes to the couch. We sit in silence for a while which makes me anxious. Is this all he really wants? To talk? It seems weird to me, if so.
“What are you going to study at college?” he asks, breaking the quiet.
I shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe something like business or accounting.”
“But that’s not what you want to do, right?” Jesus this man is intuitive. “I mean it seems such a boring, mundane choice for a girl that could have anything she wants.”
I snort. Does he really believe that? I am not a girl that can have anything she wants. I’m a girl struggling to make ends meet. A girl that would love nothing more than to be a professional artist but knows, deep down, it’s a pipe dream, and I’m better off sticking with theboringandmundane,as he put it. “What’s your name? And what do you do?” I ask, ignoring what he said. The question reminds me that I know nothing about this man and that maybe I should have asked his name when he was pushing to know mine.
He smiles like he was waiting for me to ask. “I’m a teacher… amongst other things. And my name is Asher.”
The name somehow suits him, but as for being a teacher, I can’t see that. He’s just too hot. I briefly wonder what school he teaches at but push that aside for now. “Asher?” I repeat his name in a whisper, tasting it on my tongue.
His eyes squeeze shut, and I swear he groans a little before they snap open. “Now, what’s your name?”
I push off the couch with a smile, and stride to the door, pulling it open in the next second. “Crystal,” I say before I walk out.
