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"No, I didn't buy you lunch, but I'd like to. This is merely coffee, mi Tesoro." He has this mischievous glint in his eyes like he's up to something. This moment was already perplexing. Now it's just downright embarrassing. Just because I have an Italian name doesn’t mean I speak it. Well, if that's his goal to make me feel small and beneath him, because he's well versed and rich, both of which I am not, he's got another thing coming.
"Oh, you must think I speak Italian since I have an Italian name, is that it? Well, jokes on you, I don't." To that, he just smirks.
"Actually, I was counting on the fact that you didn't. Glad to know I was right."Jerk
Our order is called, and he hands me my coffee and scone. We then turn and walk out of the coffee shop in silence. Once we're outside, he walks to his car, and I walk to mine. Before opening my door, I stop and look over my shoulder in the direction of his car, only to find his stormy eyes staring back at me. Quickly I break our eye contact and climb into my car. He has the most consuming gaze I've ever felt. I swear when his eyes are on me, it's like he sees me, which makes me uneasy. I've worked hard on my mask over the years to hide my insecurities, and I don't like his disarming gaze.
The drive back to Reds has me in complete knots with a million questions and zero answers. Was it a coincidence that we both went to the same place for lunch, or did he follow me? Does he really want to buy me lunch? Is it possible he knows the effect he has on me? Most importantly, why did I feel such a profound loss almost in my soul when his hand left my back? In the end, seeking answers to any of those questions would spell disaster for me, seeing as how I need this job and can't afford to mess it up.
Theremainingfourhoursof training were the longest of my life. I felt like I was in a blistering inferno. A ball of nervous energy, I was wound so tight I felt I could snap at any moment. Sitting in class, I could feel the heat of his gaze on the back of my neck like he was daring me to turn around. I wanted to steal a glance so bad. To see his eyes one more time, to analyze his demeanor and see if today's exchange was just a product of my overactive imagination. Or was he, in fact, just as affected by me as I am by him? But, again, I knew none of those answers would do me any good.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and as I peek at my messages, I see that Mason is waiting in the parking lot. That's good because that means at any moment, Phyllis will wrap things up for the day, and I can escape all this sexual tension if that's even what this is. How do I have sexual tension with someone I don't even know, someone who hasn't been exactly friendly to me?
"All right class, that's it for today. Tomorrow will be much like today, but we will be taking a tour of the facility, so please feel free to wear jeans and comfortable closed-toed shoes."
I quickly read Phyllis's disposition to make sure she is indeed done speaking before swiftly exiting the class ahead of anyone else. The minute I'm outside the lobby and heading to the parking lot, I can breathe. My skin was so hot for the last few hours that the breeze in the spring air feels exhilarating.
No sooner than I have time to search for Mason, he's pulling around in his blacked-out Audi. His dad got it for him as a graduation gift when he announced Mason would be joining the family business. It's a hot car, but there's no way Mason could have afforded a car like this on his own, not yet anyway. Rolling down the window, he catcalls, "Hey, sexy, need a ride?"
I can't help but laugh at his antics. He's always finding ways to make me smile. Getting in, I fasten my seat belt only to settle in and find August standing by the entrance with Ryan from training. Ryan is saying something to August, but August is too busy openly glaring at me with an annoyed look on his face. He’s so fixed on me that he doesn’t notice Ryan has walked away. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I slowly and inconspicuously reach to roll the window up. He looks absolutely livid, and for some reason, my stomach twists with what feels like regret. This afternoon, he suggested buying me lunch, but did that mean he was suggesting a date?
I hold my breath until Mason finally pulls away.
"Where too, babe?"
Blowing out a huge breath, I close my eyes and throw my head back against the seat. Suddenly going out with Mason feels like a bad idea, and I have no clue why. Mason and I have been friends for so many years. How is it that August can get under my skin with just a look? When I open my eyes, Mason looks at me with concern written all over his face.
"Babe, I know something is wrong, and that's ok. I know just what you need."
I don't respond as I continue to stew on the day's events. Usually, I tell Mason everything. I tell him about the men I'm interested in and vice versa to an extent. We never ask about details. If anything, it's always felt like an overall interest assessment, like do we think this relationship could be serious. Neither one of us has ever really had a serious relationship. A part of me wants to tell him about August, but at the same time, I don't. I think that's because I don't know how I feel about August. But I do know how I should feel which is nothing.
As we round the corner towards The Loop I know precisely where he is taking me. Our favorite Mexican restaurant El Tapatio! This place is only our favorite because Mason is friends with the owner's son, who lets us order drinks even though we are underage. It's not like I'm a big drinker, but a good Margarita always hits the spot.
Mason parallels on the street out front before we make our way in. The smell of fresh chips and the sound of salsa music immediately put me at ease. It's incredible how the environment alone can alter one's mood.
We take our seats in a private booth towards the back of the restaurant before Mason quickly places our order and then turns his attention to me.
"So, are we going to talk about what's bothering you, or are you going to continue to sulk?"
My eyes bug out. "Pfft, I'm not sulking. Today just sucked the life out of me, but I'm already feeling better now that we're here."
His eyes bore into mine, and I know he knows I'm avoiding talking about something. I tell him everything, he's known about every crush and all my guy friends, but this feels different for some reason. The waiter brings over our margaritas coupled with chips and salsa. I take a big gulp of my margarita just as Mason stands up, swings around the booth, and pushes into my side. Now we're sitting next to each other instead of across. Usually, a gesture like this would make me feel giddy inside, but tonight it's uncomfortable and that’s unsettling.
Playfully he nudges his shoulder into mine while putting his hands firmly on the table, almost like he's trying to deescalate the tension that I'm sure he feels rolling off me in waves. The last thing I want to do is make him feel like he's done something wrong, so I grab his hand and lace my fingers through his. Immediately he loosens up, knowing I want him there. We both take another sip of our drinks before noticeably relaxing.
We've just started on our second round of drinks when Mason leans in and puts his forehead to mine in a move that takes my breath away. He knows I'm a sucker for those big blue eyes behind his dorky glasses that somehow make him hotter.
"When are you going to let me in, babe?" My heart skips a beat.
"Why does that sound like a loaded question?"
Rather than answer with words, he takes my lips in his in what might be one of the most sensual kisses we've ever shared. His tongue explores the seam of my lips before coaxing them apart and slowly dipping inside to taste me. The saltiness of the margarita on his tongue draws me in, as he deepens the kiss.
His hand slowly makes its way up my thigh, to my hip bone, where he gently squeezes it before tracing slow, methodical circles on my hip with his thumb, making my stomach coil with desire. I put my hand on his chest, grabbing him by his shirt to pull his body closer to mine. He smiles against my mouth clearly pleased by my eagerness. Breaking our kiss he starts to trail kisses along my jaw and down my neck while deliciously running his fingers up my back, coaxing a little whimper out of me.
I love when he touches me. When he touches me, it's like only I exist, and he can't get enough of me. I'm a sucker for him like this, and he knows it. I'm too drunk off the way he's trailing his tongue up my neck to my lobe, where he gently nips me before coming back to my mouth to realize my hand has made its way down his well-defined chest to his belt. Gently I tug at his belt while simultaneously dipping my fingers inside to feel his warm, taught abs graze my fingertips. He moans into my mouth before breathlessly panting, "Babe."
Right then, the waiter places our plates on the table. I'm trying to play it cool like we weren't just caught getting incredibly handsy in the middle of a restaurant.
