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Sleep is important to me. I can survive on six hours, but nine is better. Thalia always jokes about the way I am more than capable of sleeping through three alarms and an earthquake. Today, however, I'm running on fumes and strong coffee.
The sleep I did get last night - or rather, this morning - was deep, but between all the sex and talking, it was nowhere near enough.
I want to go back to bed for a nap. Sadly, that's not an option. After I missed my meeting with Professor Fuckhead this morning, he sent me a snarky email reminding me attendanceat progress meetings was mandatory and could I please reschedule. While I was tempted to make up some colorful excuse, like a dose of the plague, I decided honesty was the best policy and replied by saying I'd overslept. Lucky me, he had a slot free this afternoon, so I'm on my way now.
Christiano called a car, as promised, only it isn't an Uber. Nope, it's a blacked-out Escalade driven by one of his guys, and Christiano is accompanying me to college. I feel like a celebrity when we pull up outside the campus. Pretty sure a few passing students think the same, as I notice some of them watching curiously.
"What time do you finish today?"
"Why?" I was expecting him to disappear for a few days because emotionally unavailable is the kind of guy I'm used to.
"Because I'm taking you out for dinner."
"But what if I'm working?"
"You're not, Cara."
"But Martin sometimes calls me in for a last-minute shift..."
"This is the same Martin who left you alone, late at night, with no protection from opportunist assholes?"
Wow, he's summed up Martin so well, it's frightening. I roll my eyes anyway.
"I know he's a dick, but I need the money."
"No, you don't. I'm taking care of you now," Christiano says, the tone of his voice telling me in no uncertain terms this isn't a democratic discussion.
"What, so you're paying off all my student loans and giving me a monthly stipend?" I snort. Yeah right.
"If that's what it takes to stop you working in that coffee shop, where it clearly isn't safe, then yes."
I stare at him. He's not joking. Have I fallen through a wormhole into an alternate dimension? I must have. What kind of man says shit like this after one night? I know I'm a decent fuck, but really??
The privacy glass is up, thank fuck, because I don't want Christiano's driver listening to this conversation.
"Are you saying you want me to be your sugar baby? How old are you anyway?"
"I'm 32. And no. A sugar baby arrangement implies I'm paying you for sex. That's not what I'm offering here."
"Wow, that's kinda old..." He scowls at the insult but I ignore it. I'm too caught up in him saying he's offering more than what I expected. "I don't understand! We've literally just met!"
"And?"
"Don't you want to keep it casual for a bit? You might hate me after a week."
"Why would you think that, Cara?"
"Because... because guys usually fuck me and then fuck off. That's how it goes. I know I'm quirky and probably super annoying and horribly untidy and not at all sophisticated and I like weird things like anime and gaming and I can't cook to save my life and I have a cat that hates men..." My rant ends when I run out of oxygen.
Christiano reaches out and pulls me into his lap. "I'm not that kind of guy, Cara. I like you, more than like you, and I want to take care of you. How that works is up to you, but know this, you're not working at the coffee shop anymore. I'll call Martin and let him know."
I get the feeling Martin isn't going to like what Christiano has to say, but I don't care. I'm too busy trying to get my head around the fact I've met a guy I have fallen madly in...lust...with (yeah, we're calling it lust because I'm delusional as fuck), and he's not an emotionally stunted man-child.
Maybe the universe doesn't hate me after all?
"OK," I say.
"Good girl."
