Page 15 of Tap Left
where the maitre d knows him by name. It's private. Dark and romantic, and no doubt one of his best tools for making a woman feel special.But this isn’t Daire, and I know it. This isn’t where he came from, and I don’t know who he’s trying to impress.
Sitting here, knowing that he's brought countless other women to this place doesn't make me feel special. It feels like he's being arrogant. And I want to ask him, but I don't.
He makes conversation about my shop, my mom, his company. The safest topics. He asks me what I'm reading because he knows I love to talk about books.It’s easy to talk when he’s faking it. But he’s laying it on so thick tonight, it feels rehearsed. Stuffy. And this is the thing about Daire. He can’t turn it off. He is who he is. And he doesn’t realize that this isn’t what I want or need from him right now. So when he orders me another glass of wine and my favorite dessert, I lay it out for him.
"I thought you were here to teach me.”
He blinks, and the vein in his neck flares to life. "That’s what I’m doing."
"Really? Because it feels more like you were just going through the usual motions of what you do before you…” I don’t want to finish that thought out loud because it makes me sound bitter. And I have no reason to be bitter.
Daire’s jaw tightens again, and I can't figure him out.
"What’s happening here?" I ask. "Are you trying to impress me by bringing me here? Showing me how you usually get the girl? Because I don't think that's going to teach me anything I can actually put to use."
"Fine," he sighs. "You want to learn, Lola? You want to bag yourself a husband?"
I don't answer, and he throws out his arms. "I'm at your disposal. Let's do this."
I feel guilty for my remark now, but Daire doesn't give me a chance to apologize.
"So talk," he barks. "How are you going to get the guy? Because it sure as hell isn't by sitting there being awkward and quiet."
Now it's my turn to tense.
“By the way, you probably should have ordered a salad instead of the pasta, while we’re on the subject.”
I glare, and he glares back. He's testing me. Pushing me.But Daire doesn't know that there's a lot more to me than he realizes.If he wants to roleplay, I can do that. I might act like I’m from another planet, but I’m not entirely helpless.
"What do you do for a living?" I ask.
"Boring," he replies. "Boring and makes me wonder if you’re a gold digger."
My mouth drops open.
"Next question," he insists. "Try again."
"What do you like to do for fun?"
"Work and fuck," he answers bluntly, leaning forward on his elbows with a cruel smile. "After all, I'm all about the bottom line, baby."
"And at this point, I'd be walking out on your ass.”
He shrugs. "Really? Because I thought you were into guys who treated you like shit."
"I'm confused,” I say. “I thought we were practicing, but clearly we're not. What is going on with you?"
"Life isn't all fairytales and candy floss, Lola. If you want something like you say you do, then you have to work for it."
"I’m aware of that."
"Are you?" he questions. "Because you aren't making an effort. You aren't even trying. If I were a guy on a date with you right now, I'd be sitting here thinking about who I could call as a backup when we leave and how fast we can get the check."
I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest. This is Daire being honest. This is probably what he’s thought of me the entire time I’ve known him. How fast can he get this over with so he can go bang one of the girls in his contact list?
I set my napkin aside and slide out from the table. "I think I'm done.”
"Giving up in the first inning?"
