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“Do you have a problem with me?” Eddie asked again, his eyes looking into mine, and I was in a stark realization that I’d never been this close to him. He had great eyelashes and his irises were so dark, they seemed to go on forever.
I realized he’d asked a question and I’d forgotten it again.
“Pardon?” I asked, well, kind ofbreathedbecause, at the last second, I realized I didn’t have a lot of breath in my lungs.
That’s when his eyes changed from assessing to something else. I saw the dimple in his cheek before his lips formed a smile. He tugged on my wrist gently and brought me even closer. So close my body was nearly touching his and he had to bend his head further to look down at me.
“I asked if you had a problem with me,” he said.
“Well, yeah,” I answered, my mouth disengaged from my mind.
His head bent a little further and, I kid you not, he was so close I could almost kiss him.
“What kind of problem?” he asked. His voice was low, almost a whisper. Something was happening to his eyes. They’d gone liquid and I felt a similar sensation in my bones.
“I have a little trouble with…” How could I put it? “Your kind.”
I meant his kind, as in guys who were hot. Guys who were hot made me tongue-tied, clumsy and shy.
I don’t think Eddie took it that way because his liquid eyes turned hard and glittery and his hand at my wrist tightened, and not in a good way. Still, I was in a daze, so I didn’t really register this at first.
“My…kind?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered.
He let me go, as if touching my skin was like getting burned with acid. He handed me the Coke and without a word walked out of the room.
As I stood there and the daze lifted, it came to me what I said must have sounded like.
“Fuck!” I hissed to myself.
Usually I tried not to say the F-word, but some occasions demanded it. This was one of those occasions, because I’d never have the courage to tell Eddie what I really meant and now he thought I was a racist.
Indy walked in, looking worried.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, looked over her shoulder then back at me. “Eddie just took off out the back door looking like he was going to commit murder. What happened? Are you all right?”
Luckily, I still had my purse over my shoulder. The television was in the back room and so was everyone else and there was a direct shot out the front door.
“Gotta go,” I said, with no explanation.
I went out the door.
The minute it closed behind me, I ran.
