He monitored my every move, studied me with the intensity of a hungry jaguar, and I suddenly felt like prey. Like I'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book and had been lured into a trap by the deadliest of predators.
My hand started shaking. Embarrassed once again, I pulled it back and tried to ignore the heat spreading over my cheeks.
Then I noticed the entire café had grown quiet. I glanced around to realize we'd somehow become the center of attention. The spotlight flustered me even more, and the pitcher slipped from my hands. It didn't go far. Reyes caught it, his movement too fast for my mind to comprehend.
He held it for me, waited until I had a good grip on it. Once I did, he stood. I stepped back but still had to crane my neck. He towered over me in the best – and most frightening – way possible.
And then he spoke the very first words he'd ever spoken to me. His deep, rich voice dissolved my bones. I almost responded with "Of course I'll have sex with you before you sacrifice me to your gods." Then I realized he'd asked me where the restroom was.
I cleared my throat and pointed. "It's just down that hall and to the right."
That could've been embarrassing.
His gaze swallowed me a moment longer, his expression almost unreadable if not for the faintest hint of sadness. Or perhaps … disappointment? Before I could grasp the emotion exactly, he stepped around me and headed to the back.
I filled my lungs at last. With cool air this time, realizing just then how his presence scalded me both inside and out. Talk about things that go bump in the night. Metaphorically and literally. I also realized that the onlookers were no longer paying attention to me. Every head turned toward Reyes as he walked past.
"You okay, sweetie?" Cookie asked from beside me.
But something I'd seen in my peripheral vision pulled my gaze back to the table. There, branded into the wood, was a word written in an ancient Celtic language. A language that was no longer used. It was a word that referred to the people and culture of the Netherlands. In a literal and modern-day translation, however, he'd written the word Dutch.
4
Being an adult means never having to show your work on math problems.
-T-SHIRT
Cookie glanced at the table and back at me. "What is it, hon?"
She couldn't see it. He'd seared the wood, but not in the tangible world. How was that even possible?
Another realization hit me. I knew a Celtic language, a dead one, and there was only one possible explanation. I faced Cookie with eyes rounded. "I think I know what I am."
"You do?"
"Cookie, I am a genius."
She chuckled. "You are?"
"I am." She followed me back to the prep area. "I'm smart. But not just smart." I took a quick sip of my coffee before explaining. "I'm, like, stupid smart. I'm probably a prodigy of some kind."
"You think?" she asked, clearing Osh's plate off the counter.
"What kind of prodigy?" Osh asked.
I was still reeling from the possibilities of it all. And the fact that Reyes had talked to me. "I don't know, but I'm freaking smart. I know shit."
"Like your name?" he teased.
My face did a deadpan thing. "Fine, I don't know my name, but I know other stuff."
"I'm sure you do," Cookie said as though talking to a child. I was glad she was wiping down the counter; otherwise she probably would have patted my head.
"I'm serious. I think I'm a savant. I might be an astronomer. Or a mathematician. Or that guy who invented Friendbook."
Cookie handed me a plate for immediate delivery while she balanced the other three on her left arm. She was getting really good. "I'm pretty sure you're not the guy who invented Friendbook."
"How do you know?"
"He has short curly red hair."
"And," Osh added as Cookie and I rounded the counter, "a cock."
"Osh," I scolded, glancing around for kids. Thankfully the only one in the whole café was out of earshot.
"It's okay," he said, all grins. "You can have mine if you want."
I rolled my eyes. The little shit. We delivered Cookie's order. When we got back, Lewis, another of our busboys, was leaning his head through the pass-out window, summoning me with a psst. A very loud psst. Not sure who he thought he was fooling.
The café was beginning to clear out, and I glanced back to make sure Bobert was sticking around. I wanted to catch him before he left. He was such a sweetheart. Always checking on Cookie. Waiting for things to slow down so they could eat together. Picking her up from work so she wouldn't have to walk. Either that or he was a controlling ass. It was hard to tell at this juncture.