"That night, did Benson--?"
"Okay, I'm gonna stop you right there," she cuts me off. "You shouldn't be here, Bowie."
"Raelyn, I'm sorry. I--"
"I have company coming. I don't have time to chat."
The somber look in her eyes snaps my heart in half like...
"She was the first beautiful thing I ever got stuck on." - Neil Hilborn
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
Above: Zayna and the most Zayna-esque quote there ever was.
Zayna walks behind the counter and returns with two mugs of steaming java. "Here. Anything else?"
I push one of the cups toward her. "This is for you. Sit."
Her golden eyes widen. "For me?"
"Yes, for you," I say again.
I expect her to tell me to fuck off, but she surprises me by taking a seat. She adds two sugar packets to her coffee and stares intently at the beverage, probably to avoid making eye contact with me.
Zayna is good-looking. Stunning, actually. She has brown hair that rests on her shoulders in gentle waves, high cheekbones, and pouty lips that have been glossed red.
And then there are her eyes. I'm a sucker for girls with pretty eyes, and her honey-brown irises are mesmerizing. I could get lost in them.
"Why'd you want me to sit?" she inquires, stirring her coffee with a spoon.
"Seemed like you had nothing better to do," I remark, recalling her reluctance to take my order when I walked into the diner.
"I was trying to read," she says coolly, like my presence is a monumental interruption.
"What were you reading?"
"A book."
"How impressive. I, too, read books from time to time."
She bites her lip, but a laugh escapes through before she can stifle it. "You know, if you're trying to get in my pants, you're doing a terrible job."
"Good thing I'm not trying to get in your pants," I reply with a nonchalant shrug. It's the truth. Zayna is intriguing, and, wow, she's gorgeous, but I didn't come here for sex.
"Oh." She frowns. She almost looks offended. "I just assumed—"
"I'm not like that," I clarify, hoping to avoid hurting her feelings more than I already have. "I don't do that."
She raises her eyebrows. "You don't sleep with women?"
"I do, just not like this," I say. "Not under these circumstances."
"Okay." She nods her head and takes a sip of her coffee. "So you want to... to talk?"
"Crazy, right?"
"Actually, yeah. Most guys who come in here are pigs who call me 'darling' and smack my ass when I walk by."
"Men are vile," I mumble.
"I'm inclined to agree." There's pain in her eyes. A part of me wants to reach out and take her hand, but I don't dare. I know better than to touch someone without asking.
