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“I need to go,” I say, my tone tense from this little encounter.
“I’ll let you go if you give me your phone number,” he tries to make a deal.
I think about it for a moment, then let out a sigh. “Fine.”
I wait for him to pull his cell phone from his pocket before I rattle my number off to him.
Giving his hand around my wrist a pointed look, I mutter, “A deal’s a deal.”
When he lets go, I meet his eyes for a moment, which is a mistake because I instantly feel the intense pull between us.
“I’ll call you soon,” he says as he picks up his cup of coffee.
I stare at Dario for a few seconds longer before I turn around and rush out of the Starbucks.
Just as I step out onto the sidewalk, my phone starts to ring. I pull the device out of my pocket, and thinking it’s Quincy calling to tell me to get my ass to work, I don’t look at the screen and answer, “Hey.”
“Just making sure you gave me the right number before you disappear from my sight,” Dario’s voice rumbles in my ear.
Glancing over my shoulder, I see him watching me through the window.
“Okay. Bye.” I end the call, and pushing the device back into my pocket, I walk as fast as I can toward the ballet company.
Knowing Dario is probably heading in the same direction, I walk around the back, where I give the security camera a pleading look.
I hope Quincy sees me on the security feed.
And here, I’ve done my best to make sure my face is always hidden from the cameras around the building.
All for nothing.
When five minutes pass, I worry I’ll have no choice but to use the main entrance. Just as I start to walk away, the door clicks open, and Quincy asks, “Why are you using this door?”
“I’m avoiding someone.” I enter the building and dig the chocolate cookie from the paper bag. “Here you go.”
“Just in time for my coffee break.”
I hurry to the staff locker room and quickly put on my apron and cap. Retrieving my cleaning cart, I check that I have all the supplies I’ll need, and only when I push the cart toward the auditorium do I manage to let out a relieved breath.
My mind starts racing with thoughts of my interaction with Dario.
God, I was so rude to the man.
Feeling bad, I pull my cell phone out and type a quick message to him.
Eden: Sorry for being so rude. You just caught me at a bad time.
I watch as he instantly reads the message, then it shows he’s typing.
Dario: At least I caught you.
A smile tugs at my lips.
Dario: Have dinner with me on Friday.
My smile fades, and I stare at the message for a while before I type my reply.
Eden: I’m busy Friday night, but I can squeeze you in on Sunday.
