I rest my elbows on the table, a grin sliding across my face. “If you want to get technical, no, it’s not. But only when I’m ninety, need Viagra, and my teeth have fallen out will I ever call anywhere I eat a dining hall.”
She purses her lips in thought. “It does sound kind of . . .”
“Senior citizen-ish.”
Nodding, she giggles again. “Okay, you win. Now, getting back to the whole cafeteria thing and me tripping”—her eyes narrow slightly—“what exactly do you mean?”
“It was my duffel bag you tripped over,” I state simply, trying to conceal a smile.
“Big deal.” She shrugs. “It could’ve been anyone’s duffel bag.”
“True.” I lean over the table, no longer concealing my smile. It’s huge, like the Cheshire cat on crack. “But I purposely tossed mine in front of you when I saw ya walk into the . . . dining hall.”
A long second passes, and her face drops. I stiffen, preparing for one of her infamous slaps.
Another second passes, but this time I’m rewarded with laughter pealing from her gorgeous mouth. “Such a prick.”
Her hand darts out to cup my chin. She gives it a soft, reprimanding shake that not only makes my fucking chest burn from her touch, but has my heart negotiating its next goddamn beat. She must notice the look in my eyes, because as though my flesh singes her fingers, she quickly removes them.
She clears her throat. “You made me fall, Ryder.”
I send her an unpretentious smile. “Did I not catch you, Amber?”
“You did,” she says with an agreeing smile to match mine.
“Were you harmed?” I press.
“Not physically,” she returns, her smile melting into a sexy smirk. “I won’t get into the mental part, though.”
Before I can question the depth of the mental anguish I may have caused her that day, our waitress finally decides to come take our orders. Considering I used sudden starvation as an excuse for coming here, I go full throttle and order a double cheeseburger platter. I complement it with a vanilla shake. Amber declines anything edible, sticking with water.
While waiting for the food, I study Amber closely. I watch the way, every few minutes, she nervously tucks a strand of hair behind her right ear. Never the left. I watch the way her eyes, caramel and waxy honey in color, curiously move around the diner when a new customer comes in. As vibrant in color as they are, they’re lifeless, a murky, barren filter to a past that holds her hostage. I watch the way her tongue darts out, wetting her lips in increments, starting with the bottom and then circling up to the top. I watch the way her expression, every so often, suddenly goes distant as though crumbling under the septic wreckage of what’s left of her universe.
As a mountain of emotions pile up in my heart, I watch her flip through the music selection on the jukebox. I’m half tempted to stretch out my arm and touch her face, but I know I can’t. She’s off-limits. My best friend’s soon-to-be-kind-of-already girl . . . the ultimate forbidden fruit. Still, I need another taste of her, the urge stronger than ever before. A pull so deep within my gut, I feel as if I’m about to lose my fucking mind. Instead, I continue to watch her, trying to relish the short time I have left.
I rest my forearms on the table, my need to learn anything about her heavy in my chest. “It’s your turn to tell me something about yourself.”
I capture her gaze, and though she smiles, her eyes cloud over in hesitation. “Like what?”
“Anything.” I shrug. “Everyone has a fetish—uh, I mean a . . . thing.”
She hikes up a brow. “A thing, huh?”
“Yeah.” I grin. “What’s your thing, Amber?”
“If I did have a thing, why would I tell you?”
“Because I wanna know.”
“Not good enough.”
“Because I really wanna know?”
“Nope.” She laughs, crossing her arms. “Not working.”
“No?” I slide across the booth, the king of all smirks tilting my mouth. “Do I need to cause a scene to get ya to give me something?”
“God, no!” she gasps, giggling.
“Mm, now you definitely have me convinced that I gotta make a big deal outta this.”
“I like Twizzlers,” she blurts, panic rising in her eyes as I get to the edge of the booth. “That’s my thing. Does that work for you?”
“Nah, momma. I already know you like Twizzlers.” I stand and rest my palms on the table, her cute nervousness awakening my cock. “I need deeper than Twizzlers.”
“Ryder, sit down,” she hastily whispers, curling a jumpy hand around my wrist. She gives it a tug, unsuccessfully moving me. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m curious,” I counter as I straighten and look around the diner. “Now give me something before my curiosity embarrasses the both of us.”
“This is nuts.” Her eyes dart between me and the busy restaurant. Still, she’s smiling, so I must be doing something right. “I’m boring. There’s really nothing to tell.”
“Excuse me, everyone,” I announce, grabbing the attention of several patrons. I’m not looking at her, but I hear Amber inhale a sharp breath. I also feel her tug on my wrist again. “I’m sorry for interrupting your dining experience, but I’m desperately trying to get this fine-looking peach to give me a little information about herself. But no matter how hard I try, and believe me, I’ve tried, she won’t cave to my request.”