Page 26 of Beautiful Deceit
I put my jacket on and weave my purse strap over my head pulling my long hair out from under the leather strap.
I adopt a professional tone as I ask, "Is there something else I can help you with?" I almost want to call him Mr. Winchester, but refrain. He's never given me his last name anyway, I only know it from Facebook.
"I---" Beau starts, but he doesn't finish.
Nate steps past the door, "That guy Jude...he told me you'd be back here." I think he can tell something is going on.
Beau slams his stupid fucking hat onto his head and storms out without another word.
"All set," I say with false cheer.
It's only seven,and I want to pour the hot soup I was served over my lap for a reason to get the hell out of here. The small restaurant is quaint. There’s about ten tables total and maybe half of them are full.
Nate raises his hand for the third time to summon the waitress. I want to crawl under the table and bury myself in a hole. Nate asks her about the kind of bread used to make his sandwich, he tsks at her reply, and dismisses her curtly while he mutters aboutnot earning a tip.
He turns to me. I try, for the third time tonight, to not openly react to his rudeness.
He makes small talk, “Jess tells me you own the bookstore. Seems kinda cool, you probably just hang out most of the day reading and stuff.”
I open my mouth to clear up the misconception but never get the chance.
“I’m working for my uncle right now. It’s not the best situation, but it leaves me enough time to work onHidfield. That’s a game I’m coding.”
I take a spoonful of soup and nod my head as I bring it to my lips. Pretending to find that fact interesting. This is the seventh time he has mentioned his game. I imagine I would be more interested if he didn’t explain the process in technical jargon I can’t entirely grasp. When I do try to confirm a term or ask a question about the process, he dismisses me with a, “You can’t possibly understand.”
He's cute, I’ll give him that, in that nerd chic kind of way. Unfortunately, he has a number of cards stacked against him. I could excuse his behavior for first date nerves, but I can’t make an excuse for the way he makes me feel. I wonder if I hadn't met a certain someone a few weeks ago, maybe I wouldn’t be so critical of Nate. I'd probably enjoy his company more, possibly. I could probably even look past the fact that he openly complains to the waitstaff and has compared the food served to his mother's, through all the courses.
I drag my spoon through my soup, while he continues to dominate the conversation.
“Most people don’t realize how smart ferrets are.” I look up at his word and realize I have lost the thread of this conversation. “I’ve been training Croft since she was a baby, and she can pretty much do anything a dog can, but better.” I have no idea how we got to this topic.
I look at him, thinking he can’t be serious, but there’s no indication he’s joking.
“How long have you had him?” I interject, before he can continue.
“Her.”
“Pardon?”
“Croft is a female, as in Lauren Croft.”
I blink several times, while he stares at me waiting for me to get it. I don’t.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t realize.”
He gives a small tight smile, “I’ve had her going on four years now. Ferrets have a life expectancy of around six to ten years. I’ve been thinking about getting her a companion.”
I don’t know what to do with this information. I really hope we don’t end up talking about ferret breeding.
God, someone save me. It's times like this I wish I had a girlfriend to send out an S.O.S, a bat signal, something.
When dinner is finally over, he leads me out to the sidewalk. His hand rests on my lower back. I hurry my steps feeling uncomfortable with him so close behind me.
“Do you have any plans for the rest of the night?”
“No, I’ll probably just head home. You?” I ask more out of courtesy than any real desire to know.
“I’m actually headed over to a friend’s LAN party.” His brows are raised again like he’s waiting for my acknowledgement.
