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Learn to bake a cake from scratch.
Every now and again, I’d glance over at the table where Mr. Personality sat, and a flurry of nerves would hit me at an overwhelming speed. I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, no matter how much I tried to avert my gaze. I felt as if I were a straight-up creeper, staring in his direction, yet something about him drew me in and made it almost impossible to look away.
He must’ve felt my intense glances at him, because when he looked up from his menu, his eyes landed directly on me. Like the psychopath I was, I didn’t do the normal thing most people did when they were caught staring at a complete stranger.
I didn’t turn my head away.
I didn’t pretend to look past him.
I didn’t scramble to make a run for it.
Nope, nope, nope.
I simply smiled and parted my lips.
“Hi,” I said on an exhalation, loud and clear as he narrowed his eyes.
He blinked three times.
He looked back at his menu, refitted his baseball cap, and rounded his shoulders forward once more, making me feel completely psychotic for even speaking to him. But still, I kept freaking staring.
What was wrong with me?
I’d recently binged the Netflix seriesYou, and I was showing some strong Joe tendencies by watching this complete stranger. If I were Joe, this would have been my current stalker thought process:
You stare at the menu completely uncertain about what you’re going to order. Will it be the green smoothie for you? The pancakes? The oatmeal? No. You look more like an omelet guy. You wear a hat to hide your face, but I don’t know why, seeing as you have a very nice, defined jawline. Even though they are still cold and uninviting, your eyes are worthy of being seen and—holy crap, look the heck away, Kennedy.
What had gotten into me?
I watched as he removed his hat, set it down on the table, and raked his hands through his hair.
Marty came back to the table, did his quirky routine, and placed my food down. I inhaled the amazing aromas arising from my meal. I didn’t wait for Marty to walk away before I started shoveling the food into my mouth in a very unladylike fashion.
“So what brings you to town?” he asked with a bit of wonderment in his eyes, probably in response to how quickly I was stuffing the food into my mouth.
“I’m renting a place from my sister and brother-in-law for the next few months,” I said, taking in a forkful of eggs.
“Oh, with your…boyfriend? Husband?” Marty asked.
My stomach knotted up as I glanced down at my ringless finger. It had been a few hours since I’d thought about my past. Leave it to nice Marty to prompt those emotions to come rushing back at me.
“No. Just me.”
“You’re single?” he said, his voice filled with hope.
I smiled his way, trying to push away the thoughts of my past relationship that he was pulling out of me. “Yes, single and happy about that. I just got out of a long-term relationship and am focusing on me for now.”
He grinned, understanding. “Well, if you need a friend in town, I’m more than willing to not hit on you, seeing how you’re not really my type.” He nodded toward the gentleman sitting at a table directly across from me. “I’m more interested in Kens than Kennedys.”
I laughed. “Well, I could probably use a good friend here, that’s for sure.”
My eyes moved back to Mr. Personality’s table. He looked my way once more—and guess who didn’t look away again? Good ole creepy me. He blinked a few times before turning back to staring at the menu. I felt my cheeks instantly heat as I lifted my glass of orange juice to my lips, and Marty followed my stare.
He snickered. “Most people look at Jax Kilter that way,” he said, making me spit out my juice in an instant, ruining my new plate of food.
“Wait, what?” I exclaimed, completely baffled by Marty’s words.
He looked at me as if I were completely insane—and, well, okay, that was a fair judgment—but I still couldn’t shake off my nerves.
