Page 49 of Darling Venom
My right leg rocked.
“But don’t you think he’s… cute?”
“I think he’s a gorgeous biker who is used to having women fall at his feet regularly and he wouldn’t want to date a monster.”
“You’re wrong,” I said with conviction, pouring hot water into her unicorn thermos. “He wants to ask you out this weekend. Should I tell him not to?”
Leah tilted her head, shooting me a look. Like the idea of her dating in her horrid physical condition was no less than appalling. She puffed on her cigarette and shook her head.
“Just make the damn tea, Charlotte.”
The next day crawled tauntingly slow.
I wondered if Tate had thought about today as much as I had (probably).
Then I wondered if Tate thought about what I thought when I thought about him (no chance whatsoever).
When the clock hit six, my stomach did an Olympic flip, and something heavy sank inside it.
I looked around, trying to find reasons to stay at work. Reagan had left. So had Abigail and Irene, my other colleagues. I’d done all my tasks, everything remained tidy, and I knew that, no matter how hostile my feelings were toward Tate, he deserved answers about Kellan.
It was time to face the music.
My legs were stone-heavy as I made my way to the coffee shop across the street. Guilt and rage swirled inside me like a whirlpool. Guilt, because I knew this meeting with Tate had been a long time coming.
I’d never forgiven myself for not contacting him after Kellan died. I figured he and Terry would at least find it a bit comforting to know Kellan had one friend at school. But I never could bring myself to contact Tate because I was furious.
Which brought me to rage.
I was angry with him. Angry about how he’d made Kellan feel and how he’d acted when we’d met each other at his office. It was like he’d validated every terrible thing Kellan had said about him.
The overhead bell jingled as I entered the coffee shop. It was a neighborhood joint, inspired by Central Perk from Friends. Cozy couches, bucket-sized colorful mugs, and posters of local bands and standup shows around this block.
I untangled my scarf from my neck and glanced around. I didn’t have to look long to spot him.
He sat alone in the far corner of the room. A dark, formidable force perched on a ridiculous yellow recliner, his hands bracing the armrests like a king on his throne. So tall, his knees brushed the round coffee table in front of him.
He wore a black turtleneck that clung to his ridiculous biceps and gray cigarette pants. He looked like porn in loafers.
When he caught sight of me, he stood and motioned me over. My eyes dragged up to his face. He didn’t look cocky or nonchalant. None of the things he’d oozed the first time I’d seen him at his office. The fuck-you air electrifying everything around him.
No.
He looked like a shadowy cloud that was about to crack and hail directly on me.
I made my way toward him, ripping the beret from my head and dumping it on the table. My mouth was so dry, my tongue stuck to its roof.
Should I shake his hand?
Hug him?
As weird as it sounded, it felt like we had something that connected us. Kellan.
“What can I get you?” Tate asked.
“Coffee is fine.”
“How do you take your coffee?”
