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“I didn’t realize I had a look.” Now only one corner of his mouth turned up. I wanted to sit on his lap, run my fingers through his hair, and kiss that corner of his mouth. Phew, he was hot. Why couldn’t I just be a normal girl who wasn’t afraid of getting involved or ashamed of what she’d turned herself into? Why couldn’t I wake up in the morning and just be Lexi, without the guilt or baggage that I’d carried for the past three years?
“What?”
“What? Me?”
“Yeah, you. You have a different look now.”
My cheeks grew superhot and I sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the darkness that surrounded us. Unless of course they were neon red, which was a possibility. I gave my head a firm shake and grinned.
“Please let me take you to dinner,” he said, his voice pleading.
My jaw crashed to the floor.
“What is it?” he asked, concern oozing out of every pore of him.
“Look, you really don’t want to take me out. You need to go out with someone that … well, with someone who deserves you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m a mess and you don’t need to be dealing with someone like me right now. Please don’t push this. I swear if you do, you’ll only end up hating me.”
He looked at me with a furrowed brow. “I don’t understand, but the fact that you won’t even clue me in pretty much pisses me off.”
“It’s personal.”
“The fact that I’m attracted to you and want to take you to dinner is pretty personal too.”
I twisted my hands together in my lap. “Look, I’ve been through some tough times and right now I’m pretty screwed up. Plain and simple. I need to straighten my stuff out before I get involved with anyone. And the last thing you need is to try to fix me.”
“Who said I’d try to fix you? All I want is to take you to fucking dinner.” He sounded insulted.
Our voices had risen, so I backed off and said, “Can we finish our drinks and go somewhere private to discuss this?”
“To what end, Alexia? You’ll only refuse me again. I think we finish our drinks and call it a day.”
“You’re right.”
We sat there in silence sipping away. I felt like such a jerk, but I knew it was the right thing to do. This slut didn’t need to get involved with a nice guy.
The waitress came with our check, and I offered to pay for the wine. He shook his head and said not to worry about it because I probably couldn’t afford it anyway. I stiffened at his comment and stole a glance at the bill but decided instantly he was right. That stupid bottle of wine cost one hundred and sixty dollars. No wonder it tasted that good!
We left the bar, and I regretted this moment. I wanted nothing more than to latch on to his neck and kiss his lips. I wanted to feel his arms tighten around me and hold me closely against him, like I meant something to him and not just a sleazy chick out for a night of sex. My throat tightened, so I bent my head down and stared at my bright pink toes.
“Thanks for the wine. It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome, Alexia. If you ever change your mind about dinner sometime, you have my number.”
“Okay,” I choked out. I shoved my hands in my pockets. I dared not look up because he would see the glistening tears in my eyes, which had punched their way past my lids onto my cheeks. Damn them.
I moved quickly down the sidewalk, past the shops I usually inspected.
Would I ever get past being afraid to get involved with anyone? Of all the guys I’d met since Peter, this one had me rattled. He’s out of my wheelhouse, thus there was no use getting my hopes up. When he found out about my past, he’d run faster than an Olympic runner going for a gold medal. This whole situation scared me too. It was totally hopeless.
I dashed all the way down King Street and hung a right on Queen. I kept going, not really seeing anything, not paying attention. Until I heard a scuffling when I was jerked from behind and an arm went around my neck, putting me in a chokehold. I felt my head swim from lack of oxygen, when a harsh voice whispered in my ear.
“Do as I say, and you won’t get hurt.”
The panic escalated then because at first, I didn’t realize what was going on. I began to struggle. I elbowed my assailant in the gut as hard as I could and then brought my foot down on his. Flip-flops aren’t exactly the best for fighting, nor do they make great getaway shoes. I tried to run but he just stepped on the back of my flip-flop, and it halted me for a second, which was long enough for him to smack me upside the head. My neck snapped back, and he hit me again, but this time it was with his fist. The lights went out in Georgia, South Carolina, and the rest of the Southeast.
