Pen Pal

14

I think about that. “You’re right. I don’t.”

“You’re welcome.”

He’s bizarrely self-confident, but I have to admit he’s not cocky. There’s no arrogance in the way he speaks. It’s as if he’s simply stating facts, then letting me decide how I want to react to them.

I don’t know if his straightforwardness is refreshing or weird.

He’s right about one thing, though. I’m not afraid of him. He’s not what you’d call normal, at least in terms of my experience with men, but he only makes me nervous, not afraid.

I think the nervousness could also be described as turned on, but I’m not ready to think about that yet.

I ask, “Would it be okay if we sat across from each other?”

“Sure. Any particular reason why?”

“I’m finding your presence a little overpowering.”

He chuckles. “I’ll move, but I’m just gonna give you a head’s up that I’ll still be overpowering across the table.”

“That’s probably true.”

“Plus, you’ll be forced to look at me. This way, you can avoid my eyes and stare at that ugly painting all you want.”

That makes me smile. “You’re an interesting guy, Aidan, I’ll give you that.”

“Thank you. I think you’re interesting, too.” His voice drops. “Those eyes of yours are f*****g amazing.”

My cheeks and ears grow hot again. The heat burns even hotter when he adds, “I want those eyes open when you come for me.”

My mouth goes dry. I have to take another sip of whiskey before I can speak again. “Not that I’m saying I’m going to sleep with you, because I’m not, but just for the sake of conversation, you should know that I’m a light’s-out kind of girl.”

“Not with me, you’re not.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “I really can’t believe this.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because conversations like this don’t happen in real life.”

“Just because you haven’t had them before doesn’t mean they don’t happen.”

He keeps making all these very good points, which is highly irritating. “Are all bachelors nowadays so…”

“What?”

“I’m searching for a word.”

“Blunt?”

“Explicit is closer to what I’m thinking.”

His chuckle is low and dangerous. “You haven’t heard explicit yet, Kayla.”

I finally tear my gaze away from the wall in front of me and turn to look at him. His eyes are warm and so is his expression, but I shiver anyway.

I say firmly, “I’m not having s*x with you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious, Aidan. I’m not in the right head space to be hooking up with anyone right now.” “I hear you.”

I narrow my eyes and examine his expression. “Why does that sound like you still think I’m going to sleep with you?”

“Because I do. But I could be wrong. It happens.”

We stare at each other for a moment, until he says softly, “I hope I’m not, though. I really want to make you come.”

I don’t understand how he manages to be completely inappropriate and also ridiculously appealing. Whatever this sorcery is, I need to get away from it before I do something stupid.

“I’m going home now. It’s been an interesting conversation, one I won’t forget for a long time.”

His gaze drops to my mouth. With obvious regret, he says, “I won’t forget it, either.”

He glances back up to meet my gaze. “But if you change your mind, I live right upstairs, over the bar. I’m home every night after six and I’m up until after midnight. If you come later than that, you might have to knock a little louder, because I sleep like the dead.”

“I’m not going to knock on your door, Aidan.”

“Okay.”

“Please stop saying that. You make the word sound nothing at all like what it means.”

His lips curve upward. His dark eyes dance with a mischievous light. He murmurs, “Whatever you say, boss,” and it sounds like he thinks he knows me better than I do.

Then he stands and gestures toward the door. “Have yourself a good evening.”

I dig in my back pocket for cash, which I set on the table. Aidan looks at me like I just stomped on

his big toe.

“Don’t do that,” he says.

“Pay for my drinks?”

“Make it transactional.”

“I’m being fair.”

“You’re being emasculating.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah? You a man?”

I send him a sour look. “Not the last time I checked.”

“Then you don’t know what’s emasculating. Keep your money.”

With perfect timing, hipster boy arrives with our round of drinks. It feels like Aidan ordered them a century ago. Before he can set them down, I stand.

I tell Aidan, “If we were on a date, I’d let you pay for my drinks. But I fired you, and this isn’t a date, so I’m paying. It was nice to see you again.” I pause. “I’m searching for a more accurate word than nice, but nothing comes to mind.”

The hipster sets the drinks on the table and says, “Baffling. Bewildering. Disorienting. Strange.” He looks back and forth between us, then turns around and leaves again.

Gazing at me with burning intensity, Aidan says, “Always liked that kid.”

“Goodbye, Aidan.”

“Good night, Kayla.”

I know the difference in our farewells is deliberate on his part, but with nothing else to say, I turn and walk out.