He lifted his burger to his mouth and took a bite. “Because,” he began, “I could tell you were hungry.”
She tilted her head to the side, clearly confused.
“Either that or—” But he shook his head, as though deciding not to answer.
“What?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“No. You can’t do that. You can’t just say something like that and not finish.”
He popped a fry into his mouth and grinned. “Why not?”
“Because it’s like dangling a carrot in front of a starving person.”
He paused with a fry halfway to his mouth, seeming amused. “And you’re the starving person?” he asked. But he said it in a hushed tone. One that sent a shiver down her spine.
She swallowed hard, trying without success to recover, but then he pushed his plate to the side, and leaned forward in his seat, as though what he was going to say held great meaning. “What I was going to say was that you looked hungry. Either that, or you haven’t been fucked well in a really long time.”
Her breath caught in her throat, because she’d never been talked to like that in her life. She looked over her shoulder, to make sure no one had heard him. “My sex life is none of your business,” she whispered back.
He leaned back in his seat and took a bite of burger. “You’re absolutely right,” he said then. “Absolutely.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
“You told me to.”
“I never thought you’d be so crude.”
He shrugged. “I never promised to be a gentleman.”
She paused briefly, a fry halfway to her mouth.
He met her eyes, too, as though something had sparked inside him, but then he looked away.
She recovered a second later, stuffing her mouth with handful of fries to end the conversation. His words had struck a chord. One that was fresher than she thought it would be. Because once upon a time, he had promised to be a gentleman. And she had believed in him. For a moment too long.
The rest of their meal had gone on without much conversation. They ate their food quietly, not even making eye contact until the server brought the bill. Samantha insisted on paying, she didn’t have the money to spare; it was simply out of principle that she couldn’t let Tristan pay. In the end, he’d slapped down a couple of twenties in the middle of the table and walked out of the restaurant, leaving her with a choice.
A choice to either take the money and pay with her card, hoping to sneak the twenties back into Tristan’s wallet without notice. Or swallow down her long resentment for the man who’d taken her first kiss, and let him win. She chose the latter, because in the end, she knew she needed to pick her battles with Tristan. They had a long journey ahead of them, and she had an inkling this wouldn’t be the last disagreement they shared.
Back in the Mustang, she climbed into the passenger seat and fetched her ear buds out of her bag. She’d loaded a dozen audiobooks onto her iPod before she’d left, and now she started one of them. One she’d been itching to listen to for months but never had the time. It was a story about a woman returning to her best friend’s wedding. Which was ironic considering that was exactly what Samantha was doing. But it comforted her like any good story always had. Giving her the distraction she needed from the man who sat beside her.
Eventually, she took one of her pillows from the back seat and let herself fall asleep, only to wake sometime later, parked in a Motel 6 parking lot.
Tristan handed her a key, and they both went to their separate rooms, where Samantha sat now, the phone to her ear, listening to it ringing as she called her best friend.
“Sam! Thank God it’s you, I’m so freaking stressed.”
She laughed sleepily into the receiver, so happy to hear Renee’s voice, and lay back on the bed. “Now that’s a greeting. What’s up? Why are you so stressed?”
Her friend let out an audible breath. “I should have never tried to pull off a wedding so close to a show. People are calling me left and right, and there are rehearsals and performances. I feel like I don’t have any time to breathe.”
Samantha frowned, hating the fact all this was happening so close to the wedding, but at the same time felt helpless. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Nothing. Well, except get here faster.”
Samantha closed her eyes, because she wanted nothing more. “I’m working on it. Believe me.”
“How’s everything with Tristan…? Are you guys getting along?”
“Everything’s fiiiine,” Samantha said, drawing out the vowels to make the question sound needless. “Why do you ask?”