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His gaze narrows, almost like he’s… mad. But why?
“You still want to go out to eat?” he asks tightly.
“Um… yeah.” Did I miss something?
He makes a scoffing noise, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I’m not exactly in the mood.”
Well, that’s obvious. What’s going on with him? “Is everything okay? You seem off.”
His teeth grind together, annoyance flashing over his face. “I need some space.”
“Oh.”
I stare at him, though he’s determined not to meet my eye, and my stomach sinks until it’s a puddle somewhere around my feet. What changed since this morning? Did things get too real last night? Does he regret what we did? He must if he’s acting like this.
“I…” I pause to take a breath, unsure what to say. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
An awkwardness descends over us, the ease I’ve felt with him lately vanishing. It’s like he’s radiating irritation. With me? Or something else?
“I have to get to the gym,” he mutters, moving past me and toward his motorcycle.
I stare after him, mutely watching as he straddles his bike and takes off. He didn’t even wait for a response from me. Barely acknowledged our date. Barely acknowledgedme.
Something has to be wrong. That wasn’t the Austin I know. That wasn’t my sweet, caring guy who’s always there for me. It’s like he was a stranger, the frostiness in his gaze nearly unbearable.
I blindly stumble into my apartment, grabbing a throw pillow to hug to my chest as I sink into the couch cushions. I’m guessing that means he won’t be sleeping over tonight, either.
I glance at my bedroom door, then away, not wanting to think about that yet. Why does he need space?
My first urge is to follow him to the gym and figure out what’s going on with him, but he asked for space. I can’t outright ignore that, right? If our conversation just now is any indication, showing up at his new workplace demanding to talk probably won’t go over well.
Maybe he needs a day to cool off from whatever happened and he’ll be ready to speak tomorrow.
It’s the only plan I’ve got going for me.
* * *
“Welcome to Kate’s Kitchen. How many in your party?”
The guy standing at the front entryway looks behind him, but there’s no one there. “Just me.”
“Great. Please follow me.”
I’m on autopilot as I seat him in my section and place a menu and roll of silverware on the table, then take his drink order.
Dragging my feet over to the soda machine, I scoop ice into a cup and depress the Coke nozzle, staring at the little brown bubbles.
“I’ve never seen Zombie Tessa before,” Lexie remarks, dropping her tray on the counter behind us.
I glance toward her and away, not in the mood to talk.
“You’re even too out of it to ask me to take that guy for you.”
“What?” I would shake my head to clear it, but it wouldn’t do any good. Between unsuccessfully trying to sleep alone in my apartment the past two nights and worrying about Austin, I’m running on empty.
She points toward the man I sat. “You always ask someone else to take your tables with big guys.”
I look again at the man, realizing yes, he’s humongous. Bodybuilder size. For once, I didn’t recoil or flinch or evade like I usually do. Is that because Austin helped me overcome my fear? Or because I’m going on over fifty hours of little to no sleep?
