Chapter 4

BELLA

Did I turn off the TV? I think I did.

“And my mother’s sister,” Barry laughs, snorting as though he’s telling a hilarious story, “won the apple eating contest because of her double-jointed jaw! She also met my uncle that night, and had several other date offers. Weird huh?”

Yeah. Yeah. I turned off the TV. Did I record my show? I think it was starting tonight.

“My brother has four toes on one foot,” he goes on, apparently in the middle of another family history lesson. “But my sister has six! We joke that she stole one from him when in the womb because they’re twins.”

I definitely recorded the show. Oh, I’d love to be watching it right now. Ah! I forgot to put up my toenail polish. The living room will reek of fumes.

“And my grandfather is also my uncle because of that.”

Why did I agree to this date again?

“That’s… unique,” I tell him with a forced, stilted smile when he stares expectantly.

No. No. Now I remember putting up the polish. Whew.

“I have to go to the bathroom. Too much wine makes my bladder shrivel up.”

Awesome.

“Good for you,” I mutter when he walks away.

Just because I want to stop dating bad boys who cheat, lie, and steal, that doesn’t mean I want to date the most boring,possibly disturbed, men on the planet. Why can’t quality men just fall into my lap? Is it this hard for everyone?

I stare at the butter knife, wondering how long it would take to saw open my wrists with it. A shadow moves, distracting me, and I look up just as someone sits down in Barry’s seat.

My breath freezes in my lungs when the last person I expected to ever see again is staring right at me with an amused smirk playing on his lips. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

Instead of speaking, I get choked on air and hack like a smoker for several embarrassingly long seconds.

He grins openly while leaning back.

“Interesting taste you have in men,” he drawls, lifting Barry’s inhaler from the table as a demonstration, then tossing it back down. Barry talks so much that his asthma acts up a lot.

Sheesh. I’m retaining the information Barry is giving me. Damn it, I was trying not to remember anything he was saying, because that’s valuable storage space in my brain. What if I forget how to do the Macarena because of that asthma factoid?

“Are you ignoring me? And are you seriously humming the Macarena right now?” Ethan asks me.

Yes, yes I am ignoring him. Because I’m suddenly five again, and this is Kindergarten. It worked back then, so it will work now. But I do stop humming.

He studies me as I remain silent, but I don’t like the look that crosses his eyes. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm, I pretend to be bored and stare at my nails. He’ll go away if I don’t bite.

Great. Now I’m thinking about literally biting him.

“For the last time, I’m not paying you for sex anymore! Stop stalking me, and stop trying to get my friends on your client list too!”

My head snaps up as silence fills the restaurant, and my entire body flames with a shade of crimson. Ethan is smirking, while everyone else stares at me wide-eyed.

“My cock is still sore from the last time I let you talk me into it!” he adds too loudly.

“Shut up!” I hiss, covering my face with my hand, but it doesn’t shield me nearly enough.

“Ah, so you can speak. At least I know how to make you stop ignoring me now. So what’s up with the tool?” he asks as though there aren’t still hundreds of eyes burning against us.

When he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak again, I rush to answer, afraid of what else he might spew.

“He’s not a tool. He’s a good guy with a solid job. He’s just… new to dating.”

“Thirty-year-old virgins are surprisingly not that hard to come by. You could do better.”

The bastard is amused. I want to crawl under the table and hide from the hushed whispers and lingering stares, but he’s relaxed and grinning. Unbelievable.

“He’s not a ******,” I whisper defensively, even though I’m fairly positive Barry is definitely a ******. That doesn’t matter. He’s a safe choice. Safe is much better than my usual choices, and I’m a new Bella.

This is me reinventing myself. Barry will grow on me. Who the hell am I kidding? I can’t stomach another minute of Barry talking about his slightly incestuous family.

“So you blew me off, but you’re on a date with him. Why?”

I look at him incredulously. All this because I wouldn’t go to his college-wanna-be party? Is he that vain?

“Did you stalk me here?” I ask him instead of answering his question.

“No,” he states, narrowing his eyes. “I was actually here first and saw you walk in with Tweedle Dee. Now answer my question.”

Yeah, no. I don’t answer him. We get locked in a staring contest, and I study those dark, intense eyes. It’s like looking into pits of dark chocolate. I love chocolate. I hate him.

“Um… You’re in my seat.”

The sound of Barry’s voice has me startling in my seat, and I look over to see him confused, raising both eyebrows at Ethan. Ethan, however, doesn’t look up at Barry. He’s too busy smirking at me.

“Why’d you blow me off?” Ethan asks again, drawing my full attention back to him.

Why me?

“Really, you’re in my seat. This is my date. See? That’s my inhaler.” Barry, bless him, actually points to the inhaler as though he thinks Ethan needs proof.

Ethan picks up the inhaler and carelessly tosses it at Barry without looking. Barry squeals and tries to catch it, juggling it a few times before he finally manages to grasp it. He holds it to his chest, his jaw open as though he can’t believe Ethan’s audacity to throw it.

He really is a ******. Damn.

“You can have my seat until I’m finished,” Ethan tells him, still staring at me as he points, and I turn to see a vacant table with a piece of chocolate cake sitting on it.

When I turn back around, Barry is frowning at Ethan.

“But this is my seat. This is my date.”

“He’s right,” I point out, hoping against hope that he’ll move. “That really is his seat, and I really am his date.”

Ethan slowly turns his head, cutting his eyes toward Barry. Gone is the amusement, and in place is that arrogant, asshole glare. Shit.

Barry immediately turns to face me. “I’ll be right over there when you’re finished,” he says quickly, before darting by me on his way to the other table.

I roll my eyes while muttering, “Coward.”

He’ll stay a ******.

Ethan is smirking again when he looks at me.

“You’re a bully,” I state matter-of-factly.

“You’re not answering my question.”

“You’re not entitled to any answers.”

“I’ll make another scene. This time I’ll make sure everyone hears me.”

Glaring at him seems to be pointless. If anything, the jerk gets off on me getting angry. Deciding I’d like to leave with some dignity intact, I finally answer him.

“You’re a player.”

He cocks his head, but still looks as though I’m his evening entertainment.

“How could you possibly know that? Isn’t that a little judgmental? One look at me and you think you have me all figured out?”

I lean over the table, slowly getting some of my composure back. He’s hot enough to rattle me, but no one is hot enough to keep me rattled.

“You want to get serious? You want towine me and dine me? You want to make pretty babies after we get married?”

His smile slips, and he clears his throat before shifting in his seat a little awkwardly.

“My point exactly, Ethan. You and I are in two very different places. You’re looking for a good time, and I’m looking for something real. As for judging you, I apologize.”

His eyes narrow. “You’re a wildcat trying to be a good girl. I can tell by the way you look at me. You’re not timid or blushing or stammering. You’re obviously well versed with this dance. So why are you playing a game you don’t want to be playing?”

Rolling my eyes, I laugh while sitting back, slowly getting more comfortable. “Who is judging whom now?”

I cock an eyebrow, amused, and he glares at me. The tables have turned. This is how Ishould have handled him to begin with. I might have avoided this whole fiasco.

“Why are you so determined to make me want you?” I muse, poking the bear a little.

“Just tell me the real reason you blew me off for Inhaler Boy, and I’ll leave.”

“Because that’s my prerogative. I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t have to want you. Just like you don’t have to explain anything to me. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go speak to my date now.”

He looks like he’s on the verge of being pissed, but a slow smile curves his lips again. “Good luck with that. Looks like he didn’t think he was going to be chosen. Can’t blame him really, considering the competition.”

I turn my head in time to see Barry walking out the door, and I groan inwardly as he hurriedly gets in the car and speeds off. I stare for much longer than necessarybecause I don’t feel like seeing the triumph in Ethan’s eyes.

When I finally do turn back around, there’s money lying on the table—more than enough to cover the bill Barry ducked out on—and my phone is curiously setting on the table as well. I could have sworn it was in my purse.

Ever think of all the things you wish you would have said or done when it was still relevant? Yeah. I’m having one of those moments. I should have gotten loud and told the restaurant he has a tiny dick… or something a little more creative than that.

Instead, I’m fuming, wishing I had said or done anything other than just take it. I never take shit like that. Ever. Why now? Has he got me that off-kilter?

Standing up and ignoring all the nosy eyes on me, I grab my phone and call my best friend. I need someone to keep mefrom doing something stupid.

Stupid would be going to the hospital, finding Ethan’s full name and address, and strangling him in his sleep.

I’m sooo close to doing just that…

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