Page 52 of How You See Me
I make a mental note to punch both my friends the next time I see them. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re avoiding the question. It would be easy for you to live that lifestyle.”
“It’s the hat, isn’t it?” I joke, but she doesn’t join in.
“Doesn’t help your case. But you have done some things that contradict the reputation.”
Time to set the record straight. “I haven’t been with a woman for over a year, Josie. Beyond that, I’m not exactly dating material.”
“Because you’re commitment averse or haven’t found the right girl?”
Why are we having this conversation? “I haven’t found someone who understands me and my situation.” I let out some tension by rolling my shoulders. That was harder than expected.
Her gaze lingers on me, reading the fine print behind the raw declaration. She’s the only person, outside of my family, who sees through my bullshit.
“Okay.” She takes another sip. “Why did she think we were dating?”
“The bartender asked where my girlfriend went.”
“And you didn’t correct him?”
“No.”
“To get rid of her?”
And because I didn’t hate the idea. “Him, too.”
“What did he do?”
“Not important.” I lift the frosted mug to drink, but she presses on my wrist to stop me, not accepting my dismissal. I could do without so many heart-to-heart conversations. Yet, I resign and set down the glass. “I didn’t like the way he looked at you.”
“When he called me beautiful?”
“You saw it?”
“I’m not blind, but I’m sure he does that to all women for tips.”
I shrug, hoping that ends the torture.I’d prefer to talk about literally anything else before I say something I’ll regret. Or sit in silence. That sounds even—
“I’m not a child, Hayes.” The torment continues. “You can’t go around telling lies just because you don’t like someone flirting with me.”
“I didn’t.”
“Implying something that’s untrue is the same thing.”
“Want me to come clean to him? Are you interested?”
Shit. I didn’t mean to ask that question, and I donotwant to hear the answer . . . if it’syes.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Are you sure? He’s coming this way.”
“Shut up.”
Damian sets our plates in front of us and goes about his work. No lingering. No flirting, and I’m not the least bit upset about how we got here.
Picking up half of her wrap, she nods at my overflowing plate. “That’s the biggest steak I’ve ever seen. Probably the most expensive on the menu.”
