equipped to defuse.
“Are you…. embarrassed of knowing me?” he asked like he didn’t really want the answer.
“What? No, I’m embarrassed of being in this stupid situation. Of owing you money I don’t really owe you,” I explained in a rushed whisper when more customers came through the door. “Now go away, you have my number and I have to get back to work.”
“When are you going to finish the rest of your hours this week?” His eyes flickered intense black and then softened to that deep, melty chocolate I wanted to gaze into for hours at a time. He slid his hands forward so that his fingers were only an inch from mine, his palms tipped downward. One subtle movement from either of us and our fingertips would be touching.
“Um, it will have to be Monday,” I whispered hurriedly, anxious to get him away from me. “I work the next three days here.”
“You’re four hours short this week,” he reminded with an authoritative edge to his voice.
“Well, the only time I am not working this weekend is Sunday morning and afternoon and I have things and homework to catch up on,” I hissed in reply.
“You could work for me instead of going for your Sunday run,” he suggested deviously.
“How did you-“ I shook my head. Of course, he knew way too much. “I’m not giving that up. You can wait till Monday. I’ll put in extra hours next week. My schedule here is lighter anyway.”
“You’re breaking our arrangement already,” he pouted, but his expression was steely, determined. He was actually concerned about this.
“Ok, I owe you a total of fourteen hours next week?” I asked and he nodded. “I’ll get some of the background work done this weekend so you won’t feel like we’re behind and then I’ll add a couple hours to my time next week. Alright?”
He thought it over for a few moments while the waiting guests stood patiently behind him. They probably assumed he was a costumer, not a bizarre stalker bargaining unfairly for more of my time.
“Alright, but I determine how many extra hours,” he countered, wagging a playful finger in front of me.
I grabbed it, holding it firmly in my grip. Sounding as annoyed as I could, I pled, “Within reason.”
When he didn’t answer right away I tugged on his finger, as if in warning, but really there was nothing behind it. This earned another smug smile from him and he looked down at me from under his thick lashes like he withheld a secret from me, like he would concede to my demands but only because he had something else up his sleeve. I gave a soft, exasperated sigh and then realized I was still holding on to his finger.
I dropped it immediately and then turned my attention away from him to the waiting customers.
He started to walk by me with a bemused expression on his face when he stopped suddenly as if remembering why he was talking to me in the first place. “Oh, I logged you into my Facebook and Gmail account so you can multitask.”
Whipping my head around to glare at him, I said, “You’re awfully demanding, when I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”
“So bill me,” he shrugged his shoulders and walked on.
I was left to force myself to smile and welcome the young couple to Bailey’s when all I wanted to do was scream in frustration. And not only because he assumed I would just work constantly for him and he could just write this off as part of my unfair debt, but also because I kind of wanted to. This was
“Are you…. embarrassed of knowing me?” he asked like he didn’t really want the answer.
“What? No, I’m embarrassed of being in this stupid situation. Of owing you money I don’t really owe you,” I explained in a rushed whisper when more customers came through the door. “Now go away, you have my number and I have to get back to work.”
“When are you going to finish the rest of your hours this week?” His eyes flickered intense black and then softened to that deep, melty chocolate I wanted to gaze into for hours at a time. He slid his hands forward so that his fingers were only an inch from mine, his palms tipped downward. One subtle movement from either of us and our fingertips would be touching.
“Um, it will have to be Monday,” I whispered hurriedly, anxious to get him away from me. “I work the next three days here.”
“You’re four hours short this week,” he reminded with an authoritative edge to his voice.
“Well, the only time I am not working this weekend is Sunday morning and afternoon and I have things and homework to catch up on,” I hissed in reply.
“You could work for me instead of going for your Sunday run,” he suggested deviously.
“How did you-“ I shook my head. Of course, he knew way too much. “I’m not giving that up. You can wait till Monday. I’ll put in extra hours next week. My schedule here is lighter anyway.”
“You’re breaking our arrangement already,” he pouted, but his expression was steely, determined. He was actually concerned about this.
“Ok, I owe you a total of fourteen hours next week?” I asked and he nodded. “I’ll get some of the background work done this weekend so you won’t feel like we’re behind and then I’ll add a couple hours to my time next week. Alright?”
He thought it over for a few moments while the waiting guests stood patiently behind him. They probably assumed he was a costumer, not a bizarre stalker bargaining unfairly for more of my time.
“Alright, but I determine how many extra hours,” he countered, wagging a playful finger in front of me.
I grabbed it, holding it firmly in my grip. Sounding as annoyed as I could, I pled, “Within reason.”
When he didn’t answer right away I tugged on his finger, as if in warning, but really there was nothing behind it. This earned another smug smile from him and he looked down at me from under his thick lashes like he withheld a secret from me, like he would concede to my demands but only because he had something else up his sleeve. I gave a soft, exasperated sigh and then realized I was still holding on to his finger.
I dropped it immediately and then turned my attention away from him to the waiting customers.
He started to walk by me with a bemused expression on his face when he stopped suddenly as if remembering why he was talking to me in the first place. “Oh, I logged you into my Facebook and Gmail account so you can multitask.”
Whipping my head around to glare at him, I said, “You’re awfully demanding, when I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart.”
“So bill me,” he shrugged his shoulders and walked on.
I was left to force myself to smile and welcome the young couple to Bailey’s when all I wanted to do was scream in frustration. And not only because he assumed I would just work constantly for him and he could just write this off as part of my unfair debt, but also because I kind of wanted to. This was
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