It’s causing heat to climb up my spine and into my neck.
It’s causing a pull in my stomach.
It’s making me hungry for something that food won’t satisfy.
I clear my throat and don’t dare look over at the table beside me. I’m waiting to see if he notices. Waiting for him to make the first move. Waiting forsomething, but I’m not quite sure what.
A server stops at his table first to get his drink order, and that’s when I feel his eyes on me. My face is flaming, so it must be as red as the red cloth napkins adorning each table.
He orders his meal, too, and the same server turns to me next. “Welcome, ma’am. Are you waiting for another person?”
I grit my teeth together as I wonder why the server didn’t ask Archer that same question. “No.”
“Wonderful. Might I interest you in one of our signature spicy margaritas or perhaps a vivid merlot?”
“I’ll try the spicy margarita, and I’d like the filet medium.”
“A great choice. I’ll have your drink out to you shortly.”
I mutter a thanks and hand my menu over, and then I take my phone out so I have something to look at aside from the table next door.
“Checking how many likes your last post got?” he asks, interrupting my doom scroll.
I offer a smirk. “As a matter of fact, I’m fielding new offers from brands sliding into my DMs after checking out my live this morning.”
He raises both brows, less impressed and leaning more toward sarcastic, but I note that hedoesn’tpull his phone out despite being here by himself.
I set my phone down, too, and I’m about to try a different angle of conversation with him when the server comes by with a whiskey for Archer and my spicy margarita.
I think about holding my glass up in a toast with him, trying to find something nice to say to get back on his good side, but instead, I do what I’m here to do.
I pick my phone back up and take photos of my drink.
I feel his eyes on me. I finally glance over at him only to see he’s actuallyrollingthose eyes.
“What?” I snap.
“You gonna go live with that drink?”
“What’s it to you if I do?” I challenge.
“It’s so fake.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, my brows drawing together as he manages to ignite my rage.
“Social media. It’s all a bunch of bullshit. Everyone’s highlights. Nothingreal.”
“Have you bothered to look at my socials?” I ask.
“I’ve seen you take a photo of every drink you’ve been served. I heard you on your little live thing earlier at the pool. Now I know why you’re here at this resort, and it’s enough to know it’s a big fucking show.”
“If you heard my live, then you heard me start by saying viewers should excuse my appearance since I was still slightly hungover and stayed up far too late having the night of my life, but I suppose you didn’t catch that particularreality.”
He rolls his eyes again, and it makes me want to pick up my spicy marg and toss it in his face.
My hands clench into balled-up fists as rage slices through me. He doesn’t know the first goddamn thing about me aside from the face I make when I come, and he’s making assumptions based on…what? His own experience with women?
“You’re right. I didn’t catch that. The only reality I caught was the fact that yet one more person deceived me. One more person made me believe one thing only for the disappointing truth to come out.” He moves to a stand, picks up his whiskey, and tosses his napkin on the table. “Excuse me.”
