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I met his gaze and awkwardly scratched my head. “I thought this was just a, uh… Like, a onetime thing.”
He still gave me that look, eyes slightly squinted, brows sunken into his gaze. It lasted for a few heartbeats too long, bringing that falling sensation back to my belly. Then he laughed. Leaning against the doorway, he said, “Was it bad?”
“What?”
“The sex. Did you not enjoy the handful of orgasms I gave you?”
Well, I don’t appreciate your tone. “The sex was fine—”
“I think it was a lot better than fine.” He gave a half smirk that made my stomach flip. “It’sfinethat you’re leaving, and if you don’t want to give me your number, but could you give me a reason?”
“I’m not looking for a relationship—”
“Who said that I was?”
“Breakfast after usually means—”
“That I’m not a piece of shit who fucked you and kicked you out the next morning.” His smirk stretched, half laugh escaping him. “I wasn’t asking you to marry me, Brooke.”
I narrowed my gaze. “I didn’t say you were. I just wasn’t looking for anything serious—”
“Okay, I’m really trying to grasp why bacon and Eggos are your definition of serious—”
“Asking for my number is—”
“A way to contact you incase Misty shows up at the bar?” He laughed again, but his brows were still furrowed. “Look, I’m not looking for anything serious either, but if you’re going to be coming around Spades, it’d be great if this wasn’t weird. We’re two consenting adults that fucked. It’s not that deep.” He glanced me over. “And you’re just gonna take my clothes and not even give me your information so I can bring you a new dress?”
I stared him down for a moment, processing everything he said a bit longer.
He wasn’t wrong. Sneaking out was a bitch thing to do. If I was going to be around Spades… Yeah, it made sense to not make this weird.
But I didn’t like being interrupted each time I opened my mouth.
I crossed my arms against my chest. “I was speaking.”
Another half laugh. He crossed his arms too, staying silent.
“What’s that face for?”
“I’m letting you speak.”
My eyes narrowed.
His smile widened. “Do you want that coffee or not?”
“Give me the damn coffee.” I started his direction. “And an Eggo.”
* * *
So I stayed for a few minutes. I ate my waffle, and I sipped my coffee, and we talked. Not in any depth, not about anything important, really, and not about going out for dinner. Which I was grateful for.
I was grateful for his company too, whether I’d verbalize it or not. It was nice to talk to someone who existed on the same wavelength as I did. Someone who understood the darker side of life but wasn’t involved in it. Someone who cared about the cobwebs in the corners and who washed his coffee cup as soon as he was done with it.
That didn’t mean I wanted to be with him. I didn’t want to be with anyone. I liked my alone time, and my books, and my peace and quiet.
Regardless, I left after I finished my waffle. Declan walked me to my car. I told him I was fine, but he insisted, saying, ‘A woman disappeared from this parking lot a week ago. You’re not going to be the next one.’ I found that both endearing and a bit domineering. The former outweighed the latter though.
The drive home was long, but refreshing. Sunday mornings were the only time I enjoyed driving through the city. Traffic wasn’t treacherous, the sun on the river was pretty, and the quiet hum of the radio was soothing.
