Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
He’s back.
Not the bald asshole or any of his friends.
But Stellan.
He’s leaning casually back against the booth, flicking at his phone. He seems bored. An untouched plate of eggs and toast is pushed into the middle of the table. Black coffee sits at his elbow. He’s in a pair of black slacks and a dark brown sweater. It clings to his muscular chest and looks good with his sandy-colored hair. His gold watch glitters in the fluorescent light. I bet his shoes are worth more than what I’ll earn this shift. He’s shockingly beautiful and all wrong for this dump.
“Did you talk to him?” I ask, slightly breathless.
Pam shakes her head. “Just the usual. Thanked him for what he did, and he barely even acknowledged it. Seemed uninterested in chatting.”
I swallow the urge to say, did he ask about me?
“He’s harmless. I’m not worried about it.”
“Not sure he’s harmless, but he’s definitely something. You sure you don’t want to go out with him?”
“Positive. You know me.”
“Yeah, no time for a life. How’s Gemmy doing, anyway?”
“Applied to Princeton.”
“She got a shot?”
“Honestly, she’s got a shot anywhere she wants.” I drink more coffee and touch her hand. “I’ll be fine. That guy’s no big deal. I’ll turn him down, ignore him, and he’ll find some other toy to distract himself with. Don’t stress.”
“Yeah. Totally. No stress.” Pam gives me the fakest, most stressful smile I’ve ever seen in my life. I swear, her bleached blonde hair somehow turns whiter and the wrinkles around her eyes deepen a quarter inch.
Stellan stares at me as I head onto the floor. I meet his gaze for a beat, my heart stuttering in my chest and some animal part of my brain screaming at me to run and hide, and then I purposefully look away. I appreciate what he did, but I don’t want to lead him on.
Fortunately, it’s an average night shift at Amelio’s. The place is slow from ten to two in the morning. Stellan remains the whole time, reading on his phone, taking a few calls, occasionally ordering food he doesn’t touch. He doesn’t bother me, and I stay away from him. Pam is ceaselessly polite and runs cover for me. Harry asks a few times if he should ask the guy to leave, but I tell him not to bother. He’s ordering food, so who cares?
But his attention is alarming. It’s intense and overwhelming. I struggle against the urge to look back at him as the hours slip past. Stellan’s attractive in a way that doesn’t belong in my life. I have enough space in my head to keep one foot in front of the other and not much else.
Stellan’s practically from another planet as far as I’m concerned.
The drunks start piling in when the bars close for the night. The beer rush is a welcome distraction. We get a few groups of girls and guys, but nobody’s a problem, and a few even tip pretty well. The beer rush ends, but it fades into the breakfast crowd, and I’m worn down to a nub and looking forward to grabbing a quick nap by the time six shows its face. Outside is cold and dim.
I do my last round for the morning. But as I get to my final table, the nice old man who’d been there before is gone.
Replaced by Stellan.
He looks at me casually. That confident smile again. Like he knows he owns the world and there’s nothing I can do about it. That bothers me for some reason. This guy probably has girls throwing themselves at his feet, begging him to take them out after getting a glimpse at his fancy clothes, his expensive watch, and his really good teeth. He could strut through any club in town and leave with the hottest lady on his arm.
Instead, he’s here, in Amelio’s, all freaking night.
I don’t get it.
“You’re in the wrong seat,” I say flatly.
“How was your shift?”
“Fine. Over now. Hope you had a good night.” I turn to walk away.
“Wait.” I pause. He doesn’t touch me, which is maybe why I stick around. “I still want to get dinner with you.”
I turn to look at him. It makes no sense. Stellan’s drop-dead gorgeous in a clean and horrifying way. That menace still lurks under his confidence, and I can’t get a good read on the guy. Everything about him is wrong and perfect.
“Listen, I appreciate what you did the other night, and you hanging around here is flattering—And a little bit psychotic. “But the answer’s still no. I have zero interest in a relationship and even less time for a fling. It’s nothing personal. Just where my life’s at.”
He nods, totally unfazed. I just rejected him, and he’s not reacting to it at all. “We can eat here during your break. Or I’ll sit with you while you drink coffee.”