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“Yes, ma’am.”
Her hands move to my pants, and she makes quick work of undoing the button and zipper before reaching in to grip my length.
“Don’t call me ma’am.”
I grin. I love it when she’s bossy.
Chapter 9
PresentDay
Layna
This has got to be the worst date I’ve ever been on. And I once had a frat boy puke on my feet on our second date before trying to kiss me. I also broke a tooth on my date’s braces at my junior prom and wound up at an emergency dentist. I didn’t even get to dance. So, I know a thing or two about shitty dates. This is somehow worse.
Dillon seemed like a perfectly normal guy when I met him in the bookstore. He’d been cute and charming. He had kind eyes and a nice smile. We talked about books and art. I’d even felt a hint of excitement when he’d asked for my number. But tonight, it’s like that man disappeared and he turned into a different man altogether. One who can’t stop talking about his mother and keeps invading my personal space. As if those two things alone weren’t enough of a red flag for a first date, there’s the fact that he keeps doing themsimultaneously.Piper had been worried about me being bored by him talking about his job. I wish that was the problem.
The third time he runs his hand down my bare arm in what I assume is meant to be a seductive maneuver while waxing poetic about how soft his mother’s hair is, I’m ready to run for the hills. If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m worried I’ll end up as a pet in this man’s basement. Why did I think it was a good idea to start dating again? Oh yeah, because I was trying to settle down and find a partner in life. Right now, dying alone sounds appealing.
I push my food around on my plate a few more times before smiling and excusing myself to use the ladies’ room. Dillon admonishes me to hurry back to him and I assure him I will. I do my best not to run from the dining area. I try to come up with a plan as I walk to the back of the restaurant where the bathrooms are located. I’m starting to regret not meeting Dillon at the restaurant tonight. Instead, I’d let him pick me up from my sister’s coffee shop. At least I didn’t let him pick me up from my apartment. The last thing I need is this weirdo knowing where I live.
Since I don’t have a car, my options are limited. I consider sneaking out and using a rideshare app to get home, but I can’t get outside without passing directly in front of the table where Dillon is currently sitting. He’d easily spot me. Especially since the restaurant isn’t overly crowded for a Friday night. Maybe I can text Harlow or Piper to come get me. But no. Piper is on her mini getaway with Luke this weekend. She needs this relaxation. I won’t interrupt that.
I type out a quick text to Harlow as I duck into an empty stall. I don’t really need to use the toilet, but I need the illusion of privacy the stall provides. I lean against the wall of the stall, willing Harlow to text me back. When 5 minutes pass with no response, I know I’ve been gone too long already. Dillon is going to wonder what I’m doing in here. There’s only one other person in town I might be able to call. But I really don’t want to call him. Besides, he’s probably working. I chew my thumb nail absently, staring at Cole’s name on the screen.
I type out a text before deleting it. I reword the message and read it back before deleting it again. Finally, I sigh and give up on texting. Before I can chicken out, I hit the button to call him. I’m not even sure he’ll answer a call from me after the way things ended the other day. I’m only a little surprised when he picks up on the second ring.
“Layna, what’s up?”
Cole’s voice is casual, but I can hear a faint note of surprise in his tone. We haven’t spoken since the other morning when I broke things off. At first, I wasn’t sure how to be around him without the added layer of our sexual relationship. Then, I felt awkward that he would know I was avoiding him. But I tell myself that he hasn’t reached out to me, either. So, maybe he felt the same way.
“Cole?” I whisper, trying not to be heard by the other women in the bathroom. “I need your help.”
“Are you okay? Where are you?”
The worry and urgency in his voice is unmistakable. I feel a tinge of guilt.
“I’m fine,” I hiss. “Just listen.”
“Okay,” he says, drawing out the word.
“This date is awful,” I whisper. “I need your help.”
I hear a snort of what might be laughter before he speaks.
“What do you want me to do about it?”
“Get me out of here!” I whisper-shout into the phone.
“Just sneak out,” he says.
“I can’t!” I hiss. “He’ll see me. Besides I don’t have my car.”
“You let a stranger see where you live on a first date?” His voice has lost its humor now. He sounds pissed. “Layna, do you know how dangerous that is?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not an idiot. I had him pick me up at Piping Hot.”
“Good,” he says, clearly relieved. “So, tell me what’s so awful about this date?”
