Page 84 of Phishing for Love
He’s quiet the whole way down. When the doors open and we step out into the lobby, he says, “I might not like it, but I understand.”
I glance up at him, at the face I can’t read. “You’re not mad?”
“I’m not mad,” he confirms. “Because if you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t want you having dinner alone with another man. I don’t care how innocent it is.”
Aaron throws it out there so casually, but my stomach flips at his words, at the possessiveness and intimacy behind them.
You know what, I wouldn’t want my boyfriend having dinner with another woman either.
It’s simple. We both understand one another.
Except the air between us feels more charged and heavier than it was previously.
A fresh, cool breeze drifts over my skin as we step out of the building and walk down Main Street toward the park. On a Wednesday night, there are only a few people milling about on the sidewalks.
Aaron makes an obvious effort to keep the conversation light by telling me about his friend who owns the food truck, how he quit his lucrative career in the security industry to embrace his passion for food, and how he’s never been happier.
The food truck is on the other end of the park, where it’s farther away and quieter, but I don’t mind the twenty-minute walk. I’m actually enjoying spending time with Aaron.
I know we must be getting close to the location because I’m suddenly surrounded by the most delicious and tantalizing aromas. I spot the truck in the distance, all lit up and welcoming. Twinkle lights have been strung in the trees, illuminating the surrounding area where people are sitting and eating at wooden picnic tables. There’s a vibey atmosphere, but it’s not too crowded.
“Oh, can you smell that!” I say in excitement.
Without warning, Aaron steps in front of me, blocking my view with his body.
“You know what, I’ve changed my mind,” he says in a low voice. “I’m in the mood for Italian. Let’s get pizza instead.”
I playfully nudge his arm. “Not a chance.”
“The line’s pretty long.”
“I don’t mind waiting.”
I try to move around him, but he steps in front of me again.
“Tess, come on. Let’s go.”
“Look, I feel like Thai,” I tell him with a frown. “We agreed on Thai.”
“I know.”
“So why are you changing your mind?”
He’s silent.
My chest is suddenly tight. “Are you ashamed to be seen with me?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what’s going on?”
He doesn’t answer me. I’m impossibly frustrated.
“Aaron!”
In a quiet voice, he says, “I only want to protect you from what’s coming.”
Confusion fills me. What on earth is he talking about? Protect me from what?
