Just a Number(106)
The fact that I’m always thinking about her means there’s a pretty good chance I’ll be talking to her more than I’ll be getting any work done. Though, I’m sure she knew this when she made me promise…and she secured the probability of it happening when she sent me a picture of her topless.
She’s a tease, and I have half a mind to head over there when I finish up here and make her take care of my current…situation.
But, alas, I wind up stuck at work for another three hours.
By the time I finish and send off the final proposal, everyone else has left the building. It’s almost midnight, which means Amelia’s been in bed for almost two hours now. When we spoke on the phone earlier, I told her I likely wouldn’t make it over, but promised we’d get together the next day, even meeting up early since I’d invited Stephen and Julia out to dinner.
Yes. It’s time to tell Julia. She may be small, but nobody instills fear in a full-grown man like that woman.
I agree to pick Amelia up at her place at five so we can meet Julia and Stephen at the restaurant, so imagine my surprise when there’s a knock on my door and she pops her head in.
“Hey,” she greets softly. “You busy?”
Standing up, I glance through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office to see a few people watching her—us—curiosity obvious in their stares. “Just finishing up, actually.” I walk out from behind my desk and pull her into my office, closing the door behind her. “I thought I was picking you up?”
Amelia shrugs, dropping her bag on one of the chairs in front of my desk and adjusting her jacket around her. “I finished class and had Liz drop me off. Figured I’d save you the trip since the restaurant isn’t far from here.”
Before I can say anything more, the door to my office flies open, and Elliot pops his head inside. “Hey, Owen. You got that contract written up?” His eyes flit to the back of Amelia’s head momentarily, then back to me before he does a double take. “Hey! Mystery girl?” A jovial grin appears on his face as he invites himself inside.
I notice Amelia inhale and hold her breath almost nervously, forcing her smile to widen as she slowly turns around to introduce herself. “Elliot, right?” she says, holding out her hand. “Amy.”
He falters a little, recognizing the name from when he met Alan, and he looks at me, eyes wide and…proud?
“Ah,” Amelia says calmly. “So you know who I am.” It’s not a question; it’s a statement of fact. “Which can only mean you’ve met my father.”
Elliot shakes her hand, stammering a little before finding himself again. “Uh, yeah. Great guy, your dad.” There’s a pause before Elliot succumbs to the awkwardness and excuses himself. Without the contract. Before he can get too far, I go after him and let him know I’ll be leaving the office to make my dinner reservations, but if he has any problems, to call and I’ll try to help him sort through everything. He assures me he’s got it under control and to just enjoy my evening, so Amelia and I head to the restaurant.
I’m not sure how enjoyable it will be; while I don’t think my sister will be overly opposed to the idea of Amelia and me dating, she could very well be pissed off that I kept it from her for this long. It’s not often we kept things from one another, so this could upset her. I’m just hoping she’ll understand why we did it.
The little Portuguese restaurant is one of Julia’s favorites—hence why I chose it. She’s always keen to come here for her birthday or any celebration, so I figured it might be a good way of buttering her up. She’s not usually inclined to walk away from the chance to eat here, so hopefully she’ll hear us out.
Amelia and I arrive before the time we asked Stephen and Julia to meet us here. The hostess seats us in the reserved booth, and after we slide in side-by-side, our server comes right along to take our drink order. He’s a young man, about Amelia’s age, with dark hair and eyes. He introduces himself as Josh, his eyes always on Amelia. Admiring her.
Now, I know she’s an extremely beautiful young woman—I’m not dense—but as he stares at her, I have this intense need to claim her as mine. It doesn’t take long to recognize this feeling as jealousy. It’s not that I’ve never felt jealous before. I have a few times in the past. But this is different. I’m in a relationship with a twenty-two year age gap, so this boy probably has more in common with her than I do.
I order a bottle of wine for the table and ask for four glasses. With a coy grin, the server winks at Amelia—he fucking winks at her with me sitting right god damn here. “I’m sorry, miss,” he begins, “but I’m going to have to see your ID.”