Page 15 of Last Letters to Ara
“So, do you actually want anything, or did you just come for the show?”
“I want to hang out with you.”
Smirking, I comment, “I meant from themenu.”
“What time do you get off?”
For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I tell him. “One AM.”
“That’s late.” Theo blows a breath. “In that case, I’ll take two shots of espresso. Black. Please.”
Hang on.“I didn’tsayI would hang out with you.”
“Well, I need to fuel up just in case you change your mind.”
I give him a dry look. “Two shots of espresso coming right up. You’re going to have a very lonely late night.”
Karen blesses me with her presence once again as I type Theo’s order into the machine.
“Surely that handsome young thing isn’t a friend ofyours.” She looks her fill, eating him up, giving me the sudden and viscous urge to scratch her eyes out.
That isIT! I will no longer let this bitter, awful old woman disrespect me, knocking me down a peg every time she gets the chance.
Consequences be damned.
I’m. Done.
Having finished making Theo’s coffee, which no doubt tastes like battery acid, I take it to his table, slamming it down with white knuckles. Theo’s face falls at the sight of the to-go cup.
“I’ll be sitting in the same spot where we first met at 1:05 AM. Bring a laptop. You’re going to use those fancy writing skills to help me write a resignation letter.”
Theo’s answering grin would bring a lesser woman to her knees.
Present - Ara
THEO IS ALREADYsitting outside my favorite terminal, laptop in hand, by the time I arrive after my shift.
“So, why are you hell-bent on getting in my pants?” I say in greeting. “Tinder not doing it for you?”
Theo chokes, literally chokes, sending a curl of sick pleasure through me. “Who said anything about your pants? Or Tinder, for that matter?”
“Why else would you be so intent on hanging out with me?” I shrug. “You should know it’s pointless. I’m not putting out.”
He laughs. “Do you always say exactly what’s on your mind?’
This gives me pause because...no. In fact, Ineversay what’s on my mind, even with the people I’m close to, butespeciallywith people I hardly know. Dad was the only one I’d ever been able to speak my mind to besidessometimesCameron, but that was a long time ago.
“I just wanted to let you know that if you think helping me with my resignation letter is going to get you laid, you’re sadly mistaken, and if that’s the only reason you’re here, then you should just go now.”
“For starters, I’m not here to get laid. You clearly need help dealing with that monster of a woman, and I’m just here to do a good deed.”
“I don’t need rescuing.”
“That may be true, but youdoneed my laptop.”
Bastard.
“As long as we are both aware that neither of us will be getting laid.” The words are out before I realize the implication, as in I won’t be getting laid at all. By anyone. I mean, I won’t be, but he doesn’t need to know that. “By each other, I meant. Not necessarily by others.” My clarification is so cringey that it makes me want to shrivel up into a rock so I can never speak again.
