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“What about you? It sounds like you’re close with your family. Do they live in the area?”
“I am, though I don’t see them as much as I’d like. My mom lives a few hours away, so I visit her on weekends sometimes, but my brother Omar lives on the other side of the country.” I see the question cross Max’s mind, so I continue before he asks. “My dad died in an accident when my mom was pregnant with me.”
“Oh Mona, I’m so sorry.” Max reaches a hand across the table to take mine. He runs his thumb across the back of my hand, making my skin spark at the gentle touch.
“I never met him, so it doesn’t hurt as much as it makes me wish I’d had a chance to know the person my mother loved so deeply. Mom tried her best to keep his spirit alive, telling us stories of when they first met and how much he loved being a father. She also worried about us feeling disconnected from our Egyptian half since his parents died before we were born. She always made this syrupy-sweet cake, basbousa, on his birthday, and played Umm Kulthum records she found at a thrift store at least once a week.”
“That’s so sweet. Did your dad grow up in Egypt?”
I chuckle. “Nope! He was born in Philadelphia to parents who wanted to blend into western culture as much as possible to avoid discrimination. From what Mom’s told us, he wasn’t connected to his heritage at all. She means well, though. I just wish her basbousa tasted better.”
Max laughs at my grimace as I recall her bad baking attempts. “Anyway, he was charming and hilarious, according to her. So I’ll take any connection she can give us to him, even inaccurate ones.”
“You take after him, then.”
“Hah, hilarious, sure. But charming? I think that’s the first time anyone’s ever called me that.”
Max’s lip quirks. “That’s the second time you’ve put yourself down. One more time and there’ll be consequences.” His thumb presses into my hand enough that the nail digs into my skin in warning. My breath comes rushing in with a sharp inhale. I want to ask what he means by that, but the waiter arrives with our meal and the tension slides away as we eat and continue to chat.
The food tastes incredible, but I don’t care much about it with Max sitting across from me. He listens to me intently, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim light like he genuinely gives a shit about what I’m saying. His gaze dips to my chest subtly every so often, sending a thrill through me each time, but other than a few suggestive comments that I instigate, he’s nothing but a gentleman. Knowing he’s the same man who fucked me into my couch last night only makes it harder for me to keep my excitement in check.
I’m floating on a cloud of warm, tingly anticipation by the time the waiter comes by to tell us about their dessert offerings tonight. The chocolate soufflé sounds amazing, but I automatically decline out of habit.
Max must’ve seen my face light up at the decadent dessert’s description, because he frowns at me as soon as the waiter goes off to get the check. “Why didn’t you order the soufflé?”
I freeze at his words and my cheeks flame in embarrassment, dampening the arousal I’ve felt all night. “What?”
“You looked like you were about to drool on the tablecloth when the waiter described the soufflé. Not that I blame you, it sounds incredible. Why didn’t you get it?”
Jesus, this is so awkward. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m fat.”
His expression turns bemused. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Despite the awkwardness of this conversation, it feels good that he didn’t deny that I’m fat. I’m so tired of men telling me “you’re not fat, you’re pretty”, like that’s supposed to make me feel better. It only emphasizes that they think fat equals something unappealing. Fat isn’t a bad word, it’s just a fact, like being bald or tall.
Still, I huff out a sigh at him. “Thin people are so clueless. Fat girls don’t eat dessert on first dates. Not if they don’t want to draw too much attention to their bodies and eating habits.”
“Mona, you could eat everything on the menu and I wouldn’t give a shit.”
“Even ifyoudon’t care, there are plenty of others around the restaurant that will glare at me like I’m a living example of unhealthy choices. It’s bad enough that they’ll assume you’re on a pity date with me.”
Frustrated tears well in my eyes, but I shove them back. Why am I telling him this? I should’ve just made up a lie about being full. Not that Max would have believed me after the meal’s minuscule portions.
Max’s frown deepens. “I understand I haven’t had the same experiences as you. I want to punch anyone that made you believe that toxic bullshit about yourself. With that said, that’s the third time you’ve mentioned you’re not worthy of being my date. Get up, go into the bathroom, and leave the door unlocked. Now.”
“W-what?”
“I told you there’d be consequences. Go.Now. Unless you really want to do this at the table.” His tone is deadly serious as his black eyes bore into me. The shadows in our corner of the restaurant seem to cling to his form as he speaks, and a dark thrill runs down my spine.
I swallow heavily and nod, then stand on shaky legs. Holy fuck, what is he going to do? He can’t seriously be considering doing anything here at the restaurant.
The pristine restroom is empty when I enter, but I double check the two stalls. There’s a couch against one wall, but I’m way too nervous to sit, so I splash my wrists and neck with cool water from the marble sinks. I almost scream when the door swings open, but it’s just an older woman in a designer dress that looks more expensive than all of my wardrobe combined. She gives me a strange look when I’m still standing by the sinks as she exits her stall, and I pretend to dig through my purse for something to touch up my makeup. When she leaves, I groan and close my eyes, leaning forward with a shuddering exhale.
The click of a lock flipping startles my eyes back open, and I whip around just in time to find Max prowling toward me. He has the same feral look in his eyes as he did last night, and I have to fight the ridiculous urge to scream.
“Don’t make a noise. I’ve been watching you all night, and no one is going to stop me from taking what I want.”
20
