Crossing Lines

Chapter 9 - Mila

"I guess gnocchi are always a good option." He takes a sip of his water, the amusement twinkling in his eyes from his remark about my meal choice.

"They are. It's all I ate when I was in college."

"What did you study?"

"English language and literature."

There's a pause as he narrows his eyes at me for a second, almost like he's trying to figure out if I'm telling the truth. I know what it sounds like, and that fact alone makes me feel judged again. So many people out there study English literature without an actual interest in it.

"I know. Boring..." I speak my mind, studying the glass in my hand with great interest.

"No, not at all." Hayden shakes his head, the sincerity audible in his voice. "I was just trying to figure out what it is you do for a living, that's all."

"I'm a writer," I explain. "And yes, I know. Boring too."

But he once again shakes his head and leans over, his gaze still focused on me. "No, not boring, either. What do you write?"

"Uh...romance novels, I guess?"

"You guess?" There's that smirk again, and again he's reading me like an open book, flipping pages in high-speed with every second we spend together.

"No, I know."

"Had any luck yet?" he asks, and I immediately know what he means. Being a successful or famous writer has little to do with being good. Mostly it's pure and utter luck, combined with hard work and using every opportunity that comes along your way. There are tons of undiscovered geniuses in the writing world.

"Actually...yeah."

"I'm glad to hear that." He smiles as the waitress brings our food, and we enjoy our meals for a few minutes before he looks at me again. "So, what's it called? Maybe I've heard of it."

"You definitely haven't." I laugh. Because it can't be, right?

"Humor me."

I think about it for a second. I'm a private person, and there are reasons I don't want my actual name in the media. Dark, dangerous reasons that need to stay hidden. But something about this man makes me trust him, and I probably won't even see him again after today, so I might as well make conversation. "Heaven and Hell." I regret my decision the second the words leave my lips, because his eyes widen suddenly, and my heart sinks from that fact alone. He knows.

"You're kidding."

I shake my head. "No."

"You're M.L. Winters?"

"That's my pen name, yes."

"Wow." He leans back again, a knowing grin featuring his already amused expression. "I guess I should feel honored then, Miss Winters."

"Winters is actually part of my pen name. My real name is Mila Lyne." Why did I just tell him that?

Hayden chuckles and shakes his head, amusement written all over his face when he takes the last bite of his spaghetti. I decide not to ask what's so funny about that; instead, I finish my meal, listening to Elvis, who's now playing in the background as I place my cutlery on the empty plate.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" The waitress startles me, her voice sweet as the peanut butter cups in my suitcase as she bats her eyelashes at Hayden, but he just raises an eyebrow, that crooked grin appearing on his face as he regards me.

"Got any room for dessert?"

I can't help but snicker at his question. "That's what the dessert stomach is for, isn't it?"

His loud laughter fills the room while he shakes his head, his eyes dancing with amusement once again. "A woman after my own heart." My cheeks fill with heat at his words, but he simply turns to order our dessert. "We'll get a tiramisu, thank you." His order makes me widen my eyes. Hayden must notice the unimpressed look in my eyes because he raises his hand in an instant, stopping the waitress from walking away with a laugh. "Make that two."

Now I'm the one who laughs. I mean, the man just read my mind. I have a sweet tooth, and I certainly don't enjoy sharing my desserts.

I can feel his eyes on me before I even look at him, the same intriguing glimmer in his aura as he studies me with interest, and again there's this unstoppable, contagious fire in his stare. It's almost like he can see me, right through my layers, my insecurity, my every fear and dream...and honestly? It scares the crap out of me.

"So, what kind of athlete are you, exactly?" I try changing the topic, feeling undressed and exposed by his fiery gaze.

The fire in his eyes seems to flicker now, and his gaze becomes cautious and calculated, instead.

The waitress interrupts him before he can say anything. "Here's your dessert!"

Her presence scares the ever-living shit out of me, and I slam my hand on my chest, simultaneously knocking the tray off her hand. Before I know what's happening, the hot coffee burns on my chest, the pain making me jump up and stumble into the jug of water in front of me, which then completely soaks my blouse with a splash. "Ow! Shit." I glance at my blouse, now drenched in coffee and water, and immediately a lump the size of New York forms in my throat. This can't be happening...

"Fuck. Are you okay, Mila?" Hayden sounds concerned, but I can't bring myself to look at him. Instead, I dab away at my blouse while the waitress apologizes and paces around me, trying to get me fixed up.

"Miss, I'm so sorry. Let me get you a cloth or something—"

"No," I interrupt her, "it's fine. It's not your fault...it's just who I am," I say with a sigh before I excuse myself and rush to the bathroom. Tears prickle in my eyes as soon as the door falls shut behind me, and I quickly remove my blouse before soaking it in the sink. "Shit." I immediately regret my action, because what the hell am I supposed to wear now? "You're such a disaster, Mila...."

What was I thinking? That I'd be able to have a decent dinner with a man like him without embarrassing myself? That's ridiculous. I'm nothing like him; I'm ordinary and boring.

Taking a few deep breaths, I try to collect myself and come up with a plan. I wring out the blouse and hold it under the hand dryer, hoping it'll dry eventually. Hayden probably left already anyway, thinking I'm a clumsy little girl. Funny to watch, but not the company any man seeks.

As I wipe the back of my hand over my cheek to get rid of the stray tears I couldn't suppress, I hear a firm knock on the door. "Mila? Are you okay?" Hayden's voice echoes through the hallway.

Oh, God. He's still here. "Yeah. Just a minute!" I yell over the sound of the hand dryer in front of me, still trying to suppress the well of tears in my eyes.

"Mila?" His voice resonates again. "I brought you my jacket, just in case that hand dryer doesn't do the job..."

I stand here and stare at the still soaking blouse in my hand, still hoping this isn't actually happening. But it is, and there's no way I'm wearing this blouse without embarrassing myself even further. And so I sigh before I cautiously open the door, hiding behind it as I slide out my hand in fear to be seen in this state—only wearing a bra and red, burned skin on my stomach that sends tears down my cheeks.

To my surprise, he doesn't laugh or comment on this weird behavior. Instead, I feel the fabric of his leather jacket in my hand before I pull it in and close the door shut.

"Fuck me sideways..." I pull on the jacket, and immediately the intense smell of sandalwood and lime knocks the air out of my lungs. Damn. This jacket smells like him, and his scent is intoxicating, addicting, and absolutely dangerous.

Because that's just what he is. Danger. Every time he's around, I make a complete fool out of myself which, admittedly, also happened a lot before. But this has been ridiculous, really. And still, I have no choice. He's waiting out there, waiting to finally get away from me, I guess.

So I gather the rest of my courage and grab the wet blouse from the sink, taking a deep breath before I place my hand on the doorknob. "You can do this, Mila. Be strong," I mumble before taking another deep breath.

Guess it's time to face the embarrassment that is my life.