One More Time

“Why not?” he shrugged.

“Because you're like a super-hot – err I mean, rich – guy,” I said. “And I'm, well, a cocktail waitress. No one important. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for dinner and all, but we don't exactly move in the same social or economic circles.”

He chuckled and finally took a bite from his burger, the juices dripping from his lips. Yes, I stared and licked my own lips, imagining what his might taste like. As if on command, Malcolm licked his lips, and even that movement was slow, seductive, and sexy. I felt a flutter in my belly, like the wings of a butterfly battering my insides, and a warmth down below took me by surprise.

I adjusted in my seat, trying to compose myself and ignore growing heat inside of me. I'm sure it was written all over my face though. I'm sure it was as obvious as a neon sign on my forehead or something, announcing that watching Malcolm Crane eat a cheeseburger was the epitome of sexiness.

I could only imagine what he'd look like eating something else,and my cheeks burned bright red at the thought.

“What?” he asked.

That crooked smile was back on his face and showcased a dimple in his cheek.

“Nothing – it's just –”

Think of something, Casey, I mentally demanded of myself. Say something that isn't stupid. Something that doesn't make you sound like a totally vapid bimbo.

“Well, it's just, I have no idea what to talk about with someone like you,” I said.

“Someone like me?” He cocked a thick, sandy brown eyebrow at me. “I'm not Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt or anything like that. I'm just a normal guy. What do you talk about with normal guys?”

Nah, you're hotter than both those men combined,I thought to myself. Instead, I shot him a look.

“Please, you? Normal?” I scoffed. “There's nothing about you that's even remotely normal.”

“Oh yeah?” he responded. “Well, what do you consider normal, Casey?”

I thought about that for a moment, and finally said, “Normal people have problems,” I said. “Not like – what car I'm going to drive today? Or, what exotic location I'm going to visit next? Like real problems. Things like, how am I going to pay the rent this month? Or, what the hell am I going to do now that I lost my job?”

“Is that what you’re worried about, how you’re going to pay your rent?” he asked, looking at me thoughtfully.

“You don’t think I can take care of myself?” I challenged.

He didn't answer me. Wisely. He probably knew there wasn't a right answer to that question that wasn't going to piss me off. He was obviously, a smart man. Malcolm seemed to read me better than other people. He knew how to avoid getting under my skin. Which meant, I was starting to like him.

Bad idea, Casey. Very bad idea, I thought.

Still, I found it hard to keep quiet. I opened my mouth and had a bad case of verbal and emotional diarrhea. I couldn't help it. Everything just flew out like the flaming pile of shit it was.

“Okay, fine, you got me,” I said. “Yeah, I'm freaked out because I just lost my job, and I'm not sure how I'll pay the bills this month.”

Malcolm looked at me with an inscrutable expression his face, and once I'd realized what I'd said, I felt the heat rising in my cheeks once more.

“I'm sorry,” I added quickly. “It's not your fault. And it's not like you want to hear about my struggles.”

“Talk to me, Casey,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “I have all night and nowhere to go. Especially, since my former best friend hates me, and I don't have a girlfriend I need to check in with since she cheated on me and I kicked her to the curb.”

He smiled and tried to play it off like he was making a joke, but that last bit hit me like a truck and stuck with me. I gaped at him, my jaw nearly on the table. I was floored by the admission. “Your girlfriend cheated on you?” I asked in stunned disbelief.

“Hey, we're talking about you, not me.”

“Sure, it's none of my business, but seriously – what a bitch,” I said. “A really stupid bitch.”

I found it hard to believe someone would cheat on a guy like Malcolm. Maybe if he had the personality of Greg, okay. That would make sense. But, Malcolm was hot, successful, and from the little I knew of him, I thought he seemed to be a nice guy. What psychotic bitch would cheat on him?

Malcolm chuckled. “That she is,” he said. “But I'm here to talk to you. I want to find out what made you snap tonight.”

“Why? Are you a shrink?”