Page 26 of The Playboy and the Waitress

“Please, forgive my manners, by the way, you were dressed… I just assumed.”

“There seems to be a lot of that around me here lately. If you would give me and Dage a minute alone, I would appreciate it.”

“Oh no, I’ll just take my leave. Dage, I will be expecting a phone call from you in the morning and, Jenna is that right?”

I nod my head yes.

“Please accept my apologies. I will say your hair is stunning. You two enjoy your evening. I’ll let myself out.”

As quick as she barged in, she left. Dage is looking at me and I can tell he is waiting for me to explode, but I simply don’t have it in me this evening. I look down at my clothes and then over at Dage once again, just now noticing that even at home he still has nice clothes on. Whereas I look like…well, me.

“Does she always make such an entrance?”

“My mom, oh yeah… she is a force to be reckoned with.”

“Do you people ever just throw on some sweats or wear a pair of underwear with holes in them?”

“You people… huh… My mother and father have always been about appearance. I have never seen her dressed down even at home. Even as a child… if she came into my room late at night she was still dressed accordingly. I didn’t realize it was odd until I got older and would spend the night at friends' houses. Of course, mom had to approve of my friends. She controlled who I was around because of the private schools I was enrolled in.”

“Sorry… I reckon ‘you people’ is as bad as me being the cook. I don’t comprehend your world Dage, and don’t take this wrong, but it seems awfully cold and calculated.”

“I am realizing that more and more every day, Jenna. Please don’t let this ruin our evening. Is the food cold or do I need to put the lasagna back in the oven to reheat?”

“No, it should still be hot, where are your plates? And you need to ice that hand, you already had small blisters starting on your fingertips.”

He gives me this odd look right before he walks past me, grabbing the plates above my head. I dish the pasta out on the plate as he goes to the refrigerator. The atmosphere has changed from playful to uncomfortable.

“I prepared us a salad too. I hope you like it; I made the dressing from scratch.”

We sit down at the island, and I can tell he is watching me. I take a bite of the lasagna and smile up at him. “This is really good, Dage. Now quit staring at me like I'm going to disappear and eat.”

“I know… I'm only holding onto you by a thread, Jenna, I'm not stupid. The sad part is I don’t know how to fix this chasm I feel opening up between us. I have never enjoyed another’s company like I do you. I have never been as focused to the point of obsession with anyone either. We have great chemistry and when it's just me and you, we click. But I don’t know how to keep the world out.”

“Dage, the things that are coming between us isn’t actually something either of us has done. It’s the others… Eat your food and relax. We will keep the door locked for the rest of the evening. Then we will worry about tomorrow when it gets here.”

It takes all I have to push the words his mother said not only about me, but my glow monster outside, to the back of my mind to reflect on later. I mean, I could have thrown a fit and made an ass out of myself defending my way of life, but that wasn’t going to fix anything. Some people believe only their opinion matters, and I know when to pick and choose my opponents. There is no winning against Dage’s mother, she is stuck in her ways, and our ways are very different. Even though my mind is a hundred miles an hour, I can still see him playing with his food.

“I notice that you don’t favor her at all. Do you look like your dad?”

He gets up suddenly, practically throwing his plate in the sink. He stands looking out the window with his back to me.

“I hate this part,” I hear him whisper to himself more than me.

“I don’t mean to pry, Dage, I was just wondering. Your mom has your feathers ruffled this evening. Maybe I should go.” I start to get up when he turns, grabbing my arm.

“Please don’t. I know I'm handling everything wrong. I have never been more torn in my life than I have this last month. Leave the plate, I’ll get it later. Let's go to the couch. This story will take some time to tell.”

I hesitate. I know it will be better for both of us if I simply walk out that door, but my feet and my heart are not in sync. He comes around the island, gently pulling me close as he tucks his head into my hair. Circling his neck with my arms, I stand on my tip toes hugging him back, simply enjoying the feeling of his arms around me and the smell that I have decided is all Dage.

After a few minutes of simply standing there, he takes my hand, leading me into his sterile living room. I plop down on the couch and motion for him to lie down. He puts his head on my lap and I run my hands through that beautiful head of hair of his. He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, and I don’t rush him. Whatever it is, I can tell it’s uncomfortable to talk about.

“I don’t look anything like my parents, or any of the rest of my family, because I was adopted. I went the first eight years of my life not knowing that until one day it was thrown in my face about how lucky I was that they picked me. I can remember bits and pieces of staying in a room with several other boys, but I was so small I can’t recall anything else. Apparently, my mother didn’t want to be bothered with the process of birth, so they decided to adopt instead. Let’s not mention that adopting me also made her look nobler… I was the first, a few years later she adopted my sister.

“She told me when I was older and started asking questions. That I was the prettiest and the best behaved out of the group of two-to-three-year old’s and that’s how she picked me. I became a pet project for her, something she could mold into her version of perfection. I learned quickly not to question her or the things she wanted me to do. She had me tutored nonstop to make sure I was always at the top of my class. But that’s not where it stopped, she had me trained in every aspect of her world, from the way I talk, walk, eat, and dress, even to who my friends were…are.

“I was so naive I thought the world revolved around her magnificence. Isn’t it crazy how easily influenced you are when you are little…so much so that you can brainwash people, because that’s what she did to me? I was in my twenties before I started seeing the cracks in her perfectly woven world.”

“You mentioned your sister before.”

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