“Whatever, it’s only stuff,” I whisper, then shout, “Thank you.”
I guess we’re back to being polite to each other. I reach for my garbage bag and my dirty clothes. Taking a quick look to make sure everything is perfect, I open the door and almost scream.
“Axel.” I gasp, as his eyes sweep my body and inspect my face.
“I’m hungry,” he says, his voice gravelly, and my stomach flips.
“Your place is so clean. I was trying to make sure I kept it that way.” I close my eyes, wondering if I’ll ever be able to talk to him without cringing.
He looks around and shrugs. “I like things a certain way.” His hand grazes mine as he takes the garbage bag from me and opens up a door.
It’s a fairly large closet, but instead of clothes, it seems to house more guitars and maybe a keyboard? I don’t know—it’s dark, but the man likes instruments.
“No drums?” I tease as I go on my toes to peek over his shoulder. He turns with a grin that slowly morphs into that smirk that makes my heart race.
“In another closet.”
Slowly I lower myself as his eyes travel down my legs to my feet. I suspect he likes it when I’m on my toes.
“Let’s eat.” He closes the door and his hand drops to my back. His warm touch on my bare skin sends what seems like an electrical charge to my core and I shiver.
This is ridiculous. What am I going to do? Looking at him makes me want to excuse myself to the bathroom so I can ease the achy fullness I feel around him. It’s like I’m hormonally off; I’ve never been like this before. One minute, he’s saying something awful, and the next, I’m ready to beg him to kiss me again.
The smell of In and Out is freaking amazing. It’s fresh yet greasy… fresh greasy! My stomach growls at the onion and salt smell. Breathing in, I hold it and say, “Animal style?” Is there any other way?
He winks. “Here.” He hands me a bottled water and sinks into the black couch.
He’s so self-confident. His very presence demands respect. Yet I try not to look at him while he drinks his beer.
Jeez, how can I eat with him so close? This sucks—I love In and Out.
“Sit and eat, Antoinette,” he says.
I sit and reach for my burger. The special sauce is dripping down the side with a glob of cheese. I grab a fry and soak it up, then watch him as I stick the whole delicious bite in my mouth.
“Mmm, salt. Sweet salt, the good-tasting kind of salt.” I can’t help but smile as he laughs.
“Yep, this is nothing but good for us.” He leans over, his arm brushing my leg, and hands me a milkshake.
“I hope it’s chocolate.”
“I guess you’ll have to try and see.” He brings the shake to my lips. I suck in the thick, sweet chocolate and let out a laugh.
“Eat up. I’m almost done.” He turns back to his burger, which he inhales in two bites. Not that I take much longer. I don’t think I’ve tasted anything better and it has nothing to do with Axel.
He leans back, one arm spread behind me on the top of the couch. “How old are you, Antoinette?”
The burger I was devouring threatens to come up. I pretend I have to chew, which I do, but what should I say?
Somehow, I get the feeling being older is better than my real age, so I grab the shake and suck as I say the first number to come to mind.
“Twenty-five.” It’s so bad—even for me it sounds bad—and there goes my happiness.
He leans forward and grabs his cigarettes from the table. Still sucking on my milkshake, I peek over, hoping he’s moved on. But as he lights one, his blue eyes watch my every move.
And I choke. Maybe it’s panic, but all I know is I’m trying not to cough so badly my eyes are watering and all he does is lean back and watch.
“Maybe have some water.” He inhales again.
I wave my hand in front of my mouth and clear my throat, kind of wheezing out, “The shake went down the wrong pipe.”
“How old are you?” His voice sounds like gravelly goodness.
“I told you, and why do you care? How old are you?” I stand to clear away the food wrappers only to have his viselike grip around my wrist jerk me back down.
“You’re a shit liar. I told you that earlier. As to why I want to know…” He leans forward, takes a drag of his cigarette, and puts it out in some ketchup. Exhaling, he focuses his sapphire eyes on me and I stare at his full lips.
Then he kills me.
“I want to fuck you, but I need to know your age.”