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“I dunno. You’re…” Her gaze slides down me. “Nice,” she finishes lamely, bringing her eyes back to mine.
I grin. “And that makes you nervous?”
“I don’t do this much,” she admits.
Her knee is bouncing again. I don’t think she’s aware she’s doing it.
This girl fascinates me. She’s twenty-five, so she’s not that young, and she seems oddly naïve at times, although her eyes hold heat when she looks at me. I think she finds me attractive. But there’s something I’m not getting… My spidey senses are tingling.
“So you don’t live in the city?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“You live in one of the suburbs?”
She turns her glass in her fingers. “Not quite.”
“You live further away? That’s why you’re in a hotel?”
“Mmm.” A non-committal grunt.
We’ve mostly talked about non-personal things. Wanting to know more about her, I ask, “So you review books? Is that your main job?”
She hesitates, then nods, but doesn’t elaborate. Can you make a living from reviewing books? I’m sure there’s something she’s not telling me. I frown, disappointed at her reticence.
She has a big swallow of her G&T, then leans on the table. I take off my glasses and slide them into my top pocket. Then I lean on the table too. She looks into my eyes for a long moment. Hers are dark-blue and beautiful, and the longing in them warms me all the way through.
“You don’t have to talk to me,” I say. “Or tell me anything personal. That’s your prerogative. But I don’t think what I’m feeling is all one way.”
“No,” she whispers, “it’s definitely not.”
I study her face, puzzled, trying to work out what she’s thinking. I really like this girl, but I can sense that she’s nervous and worried about something. I’d hoped that meeting Saxon and Catie would convince her I can be trusted, but maybe she’s still concerned about being alone with an almost-stranger.
“The 27% rogue comment was just a joke,” I tell her. “You can trust me.”
Her face flushes, and she closes her eyes for a moment. “Dammit,” she says, and huffs a big sigh.
I frown and watch as she opens her eyes. “Come on,” I scold gently, “we’re friends, aren’t we? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking you’re a really nice guy, and I should have been more honest in my bio.”
Oh… It dawns on me then. Girls often put ‘No ONS or FWB’ to make it clear they’re not interested in hooking up, and her profile hadn’t contained anything like that. She thinks I’m only after sex.
“Ah, honey,” I say, my heart going out to her, “I’m so sorry, I should have made it clear much earlier. I’m not expecting anything tonight. I want to see you again. I’d love to get to know you better.”
“Oh God.” She covers her face with her hands.
I frown. “Is this about what happened yesterday? Did the guy try to force himself on you? Sweetheart, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You were right to put him in his place if that was the case.”
“Please stop,” she says.
I blink, bewildered.
“Shit,” she says, her voice muffled against her fingers. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’ve fucked up big time,” she says.
