The Virgin & The Bad-Boy Billionaire(2)

He’s so gorgeous I can’t help but reach in and grab his tie, wrapping it around my hand and yank him into me. Hovering my fleshy lips over his for a moment I boldly kiss him, enjoying his soft lips against mine. Just as soft as I expected. I blink, giving my head a visible shake as I rattle the fantasy out of my mind. Man, I need some sleep! I’m starting to hallucinate.



“What can I get you?” My pen hovers over my notepad, ready to jot down whatever future triple bypass he’s looking to order, but he doesn’t say a word.



His intense stare turns my stomach into a million fluttering butterfly wings, he has the most beautiful blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re so unusual, with little flecks of gold and green woven through the aqua, they remind me of the pictures I’ve seen of Hawaiian beaches glittering against the white sands. Really, his whole face is sublime even if it is too serious for his own good. I can tell he takes great care in his appearance from his meticulous chestnut hair and his thick, but neatly trimmed eyebrows. I notice that his left eyebrow has a scar slivered across it, it adds a little character to his otherwise symmetrical features.



“Sir? Did you want something to eat?”



His mouth purses for a second, and I watch his eyes drift over my body. Something about the way he looks at me makes me want to cross my arms and turn away. Not quite like he’s checking me out, but like he’s reading my secrets.



“Well let’s see, I don’t know about any of this.” He nods at the laminated page of burger photos. “But you sure look good. How does a girl as pretty as you get stuck working in a place like this?”



Seriously? My fantasy shatters around me like the tray of glasses I dropped on the floor. I hate when guys talk to me like that.



“School doesn’t pay for itself, I suppose. Now did you need some more time with the menu?” Yep, I’m gonna need a really good dentist.



“I can’t imagine it’ll make much difference.” He scrunches his nose. “How about you just bring me whatever is good here, sweetheart.” He smiles like he expects me to start fanning myself and giggling, instead of grabbing my pen like it’s a weapon that I’m ready to jab in his neck.



“Look, I’m your waitress, not your sweetheart. It’s not like it’s a hard decision. It’s all burgers and fries, spoiler alert, they’re all the same! Let me know when you’re ready to order. I don’t have time for this.”



I turn on my heel and bee-line straight into the kitchen. My blood whooshes in my ears as I stomp past the fryers and out the back door. As the large metal door clicks shut behind me, I close out the world for a moment and take some deep breaths. I know I overreacted. That guy didn’t really deserve my tirade, but I’m just so sick of people making assumptions about me.



Men see a young waitress and assume she’s some kind of easy target, like we’re all just dying to go home with whoever tips us the best. In school, I’ve had more than one classmate assume that it couldn’t have possibly been the constant studying, research, and hard work that has gotten me into the masters program. Nope, it must be because I’m filling some kind of diversity quota. Even as a child, I was dragged down by people’s ignorance. Everyone assumed my father was just another deadbeat. They saw a black woman raising four young kids and figured he must have fucked off. The fact that he was killed by a drunk driver in a car crash would never even enter their minds. Until the day he left this earth, my dad was a great father. He did everything for us. Even though he was killed when I was only seven, I had so many great memories of him.



“Whoa, Kendra, Mr. Taylor is flipping right now. What happened with that guy?”



I didn’t even hear Brianna come out the back door. She already has a cigarette dangling from her fuchsia lips. She takes a quick look over her shoulder and then lights it up, taking a long drag.



“Eww, seriously? When are you going to quit?” I wave the smoke away from my face.



Brianna shrugs at me, I know she’s tired of me harping on her about this, I’ve tried talking to her about quitting smoking for years now. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye and blows the smoke away from me. She sucks back on her cigarette like it’s the very oxygen mask I worry she’s going to need in the future.



“Are you gonna tell me what that guy said?”



“He called me sweetheart.” As soon as my flat voice echoes his word, I realized just how silly it sounded that I had made such a scene about it.



“Seriously?”