"No, I was, er, hungry." My voice sounds small to my ears as I sit here feeling like a scolded child.
His irises are pinned on me as he finishes the remainder of his drink. I'm not sure what it is, but the color matches his eyes. Warm, golden brown.
"By all means, eat away, little wolf." His tongue slowly slides over his bottom lip, and a smile plays at one corner of his mouth.
Glancing back at my plate, the sight of the burger makes me feel ill. "I'm not hungry anymore." I push the plate away from me.
He laughs. "You can't be serious. You were inhaling the thing a second ago and now you're not hungry anymore?"
"Yeah. I think I need to leave."
"Not gonna happen. Unless, of course, you climb over me." His head drops to my legs and a cocky grin emerges on his sexy mouth. Then he redirects his gaze back to my eyes and waggles his brows.
Asshole. He knows damn well I can't climb over him because I'm wearing a skirt.
"So, Vivi, why didn't you ever call me?"
Pivoting in the booth so I can look at him better, I say, "Why would I? You and I never were friends at Crestview. We never hung out. You just used me to do your homework." And I caved every fucking time. "Besides, I hated it there. People were rude to me and I don't like being reminded of it. So what would be the purpose of calling you?"
"Whoa," he says, pausing for a breath, "Can't we start from scratch? Let bygones be bygones and all that? We were both young and silly."
I press my lips together, trying to come up with a pleasant response. "Your memory is different from mine. I never had the chance to be silly and young and carefree. You were the popular kid. I was the fat ugly one. The girls were cruel and did terrible things to me. I'm sure you had a great time because they all adored you. You can't possibly know what it was like to go through school having every day of your life suck. If you did, you wouldn't be so casual about it."
His eyes shutter to half-mast and he tilts his head. "You don't know that … you don't know anything about me. You presume a whole lot, Vivienne Renard, yet you know very little."
"Ooh. What does that mean? Do you have some deep dark secret hiding beneath the surface you've never shared with anyone? Are you really a broken man and in need of some woman to come and rescue you from self-destruction? Do you loathe the man you've become and are afraid of that person?" I chuckle at my own joke, but then I notice he's not laughing. His eyes are pained as two long creases appear in the small space between them.
In a low voice, he says, "Never presume anything, Vivi. Haven't you learned that yet?" He empties his glass in one long swallow and stares straight ahead.
Remorse flows through me. It was a bit harsh, I suppose. "Sorry. You were one of them, you know. I never belonged in that school. I hated every minute of it." I think back to all the memorabilia I trashed-the things Mom saved for me-when I cleaned out the house. All those ugly uniforms she'd kept and scrapbooks she'd made for me, thinking I'd treasure them. The idea of them makes me shudder.
"Why did you go then?" he asks without looking at me.
"My mom wanted me to. After Dad died, I didn't want to rock her flimsy boat." I wish she'd explained to me back then how much it was costing her and how much debt she was throwing herself into. It would've made our lives easier because I would've told her how much I hated that place.
The waitress pops over and we both order another round of drinks. Bourbon is his choice-Weller to be precise. I order another beer. When she delivers them, I watch him swirl it around in his glass a few times before he takes a hearty gulp.
"So, Vivi, why's a smart girl like you working in a coffee shop? You had all the brains. I thought by now you'd be working your way up a serious career ladder in some rocket science capacity."
A rueful laugh leaks out of me. "Yeah, those were my thoughts too. Funny how life never seems to fall in line with what you want."
He rubs his chin and it reminds me of the sound I hear when I file my nails. I peek down at them and they look awful-ragged edges with cuticles crying out for attention.
"So what stopped you?" he asks.
"Life."
"Where did you end up in college?"
"I graduated from MIT."
"No shit." He nods appreciatively. "I always knew you were a damn brain."
"And look where it got me."
"Why not go somewhere else if you're so down on this place?"
I rub my arms. A wicked chill penetrates my bones. The whole job thing sucks. More specifically, it angers me. "I'm on the hunt now and have been for a few months."
"What's your degree in?"
"Computer science and engineering."
"From MIT." He appears pensive.
"Yeah."
"Holy shit. And you're working in a fucking coffee shop for a greasy-headed twat?"
That makes me laugh. "That's about right."
"What the hell?"
"Prescott, it's a long story."
"I'm not in a hurry. Do you see me leaving? Am I trying to dash out that door over there?" He points to the exit.
"No," I say, shaking my head and laughing.
"Tell me. And this better be good because my guess is you graduated with a 4.0 and all kinds of honors. Am I right?"
I shrug.
"Come on, Vivi."
I'm still resisting, but then he smirks. Nothing is sexier than Prescott Beckham smirking. Okay, maybe his ass. But whatever. Then he suddenly says, "Hey, let's play my favorite game."
"No way. I'm not playing Truth or Dare with you."
"Why not? You used to at Crestview."
"Because you always figured out a way to persuade me to do it. Don't you think twenty-seven is a little old for that?"
"Not at all. You're never too old for Truth or Dare. Come on. Don't be such a chicken. If you don't want to tell me something, take the dare." He grins and sticks the tip of his tongue between his top and bottom teeth.
Jerk.
I check the time and see it's almost eight-thirty. "One hour. That's it. I leave at nine-thirty."
"Why then? I didn't think Cinderella turned into a pumpkin until midnight."
"Ha-ha. I have to go to Brooklyn and it's freezing out." I leave out the bit about how scared I am going home so late by myself. "And you have to answer, too."
"I was planning on it. But I get to go first."
"Fair enough."
"All righty then. Truth or dare, Vivi?" He's lowered his voice into that raspy-sexy tone.
My palms are already sweating. "Truth."
"When I saw you at lunch, what did you mean by me ‘having the girls wrapped around my homework binder,' or whatever it was you said?"
Well, fuck me. Why'd he have to start with that?
Chapter 4
Prescott
Vivi rubs her hands on her thighs. She's nervous and has been ever since I stood over the table. She seems to have more confidence in herself now than she had when I knew her but that doesn't account for her skittishness. Back at Crestview, she had been overweight-I knew that-only I didn't know, or maybe I didn't pay attention, to the other girls giving her a hard time. And why should I have? I had so much going on in my head I could barely keep my own shit together.
"So?" I prod. "Homework binder?"
"You did a pretty good job with me. I only figured you put the other girls in the same boat. You know, with the homework stuff and all."
"I had you wrapped around my homework binder at Crestview. That's your metaphor for finger."
It's not a question. I'm baffled because I had no idea. Yeah, I was a flirt, but I flirted with everyone to get what was necessary. It was the only way I knew how to accomplish my goals. She needed the money and always acted like she had no interest in me whatsoever.
"Of course. You had everyone wrapped around your finger. Well, maybe more of them were wrapped around your, um." She points in the direction of my dick.
Sexy little Vivi can't say dick out loud. Isn't that the cutest thing in the world?
"Say it, Vivi."
"Say what?"
"You know what." I lean into her and get close to her lips. "Say it."
Her chest puffs out as she says, "Dick." Her lovely neck flushes pink and two bright spots of fuchsia dot her cheeks. This is sweet innocence at its utmost.
"Excellent. Now say cock." I put a great deal of emphasis on the "c" and "k" at the end of the word. Silver gray irises turn stormy and deep creases form on her forehead.
"Why would you want me to say that word?"
"Because it makes you uncomfortable as hell and I'm an asshole. I like to see you squirm, Vivi."
"I won't say that. It has nothing to do with truth or dare. And besides, it's my turn."
I take a couple of good slugs of my drink, sit back, and cross my arms. "Do your worst."