The Reason I Stay (14 page)

After all the breaks I took today, I give myself three minutes to feel sorry for myself. I throw some water over my neck, call myself stupid for breaking my three-year man-hating streak with him, and avoid the mirror in case I decide that punching it will be the same as punching my own face. Once all of that is over, I take a deep breath and walk out of the bathroom.

The moment I step out I see Mathew is standing in the corridor right in front of the bathroom’s door. His back is against the wall, ankles casually crossed, and hands inside his shorts pockets. Instinctively, I want to turn around and walk back into the bathroom, but this entire day has revealed a new Lexie, one he’s brought out of hiding, and one that makes me cringe just thinking about. I’m done with it.

I walk straight past him without even acknowledging his presence. “Wait a sec,” he says, but I continue to walk, and then he materializes in front of me. “Why do I have a new waitress?”

I glare at him. “I don’t know,
sugar.
Ask your
date
, maybe she knows.”

The son-of-a-bitch has the nerve to give me an ear-to-ear grin. I take a sideways step to get away from him, but he shadows me. I try to move around him again, but he continues to block my path.

“I have to go back to work,” I blurt out, frustrated.

“And you will, as soon as you tell me why I have a new waitress.” He’s looking me straight in the eyes, and I’m doing everything to avoid looking at him. “Because I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I come over to see and to talk to you, not to some other waitress.”

“And I must have made a pretty convincing point about needing you to be an asshole, because you’re being one. A huge one.” I finally look him in the eyes. Mine are, hopefully, full of anger, while his are pure blue cockiness. “A date, Mathew? Here? Really?”

He shrugs, and tilts his head. “I don’t know why you’re so mad about it. I thought you didn’t care. You don’t even like me.”

The son-of-a-bitch!

“And I was beginning to believe that you did,” I deadpan.

Mathew takes a step toward me and reaches for my hand. His fingers skim over mine, sending shockwaves all over my body. I want to pull away, but something won’t let me. I’m betting on stupidity.

“Good,” he whispers, so close his minty breath fans on my face. He moves from one foot to the other as he continues, “Because I do. A lot. In fact, you’re the only woman in this town I’m interested in taking on a date.”

And now I’m confused. I swallow a dry lump in my throat and try to find my voice to call him out on his crap, but Mathew takes another step closer to me. At this proximity, his gaze and his eyes feel more intimate than the fingers he laces with mine. He’s so close that I can feel the heat of his breath with even the tiniest exhale. But it’s his eyes, and the way he’s looking at me that get me the most. I can no longer pull my own away; it’s as if he’s drawing me to him, reading my entire story, discovering the depths of who I am and refusing to let go of the hold he has on me all at once. But in the storm of blues and grays that color his irises, I also see the smallest hint of vulnerability.

My gaze falls to his lips—those lips—that are so close I could kiss them with the smallest movement of my head. Momentarily, I forget how much I hate that I can’t fight this attraction I feel for him, and as my head starts to spin, all thoughts of dates and sugar slip from my mind.

A sound comes from behind me. I can’t make out what it is, but it makes Mathew’s lips dance with a barely there smile. Then, he twists his head, and calls over his shoulder, “I found her.”

Still a little stunned, it takes me a while to return to earth. When I do, he’s standing next to me, revealing Kodee, who is wearing a pretty dress instead of her usual shorts and tee, skipping toward us. I look at Mathew’s smug face, a question mark no doubt clear on my furrowed brow.

Through smirking lips, he mouths,
my date
. And then he presses his fingers a bit tighter around mine at the same time that Kodee reaches us.

Without even a greeting, she places her hands on her hips, and blurts out, “Jen told Gammy you have bad shitters, but you’re still gonna be able to be our waitress, right? Anna doesn’t know how I like my lemonade, Lexie.”

Several things follow at once. Mathew belts out a laugh, I reprimand Kodee for her mouth, and mentally curse Jen. Despite it all, as the three of us walk back to booth nine, where Jill and Larry Valentine are waiting, I can finally breathe.

Considering the late hour and how busy we tend to get on Thursday nights, I stop by their table as often as I can, which isn’t often at all. During those visits, we all talk a little, and my heart melts at the sight of Kodee so happy. Mathew gives me the wondering eyes and makes comments filled with innuendos, but I don’t play into them.

The truth is that between him staying, this afternoon, whatever game he played on me tonight, and the mystery that is “sugar,” I’m thoroughly confused, scared, and unwilling to let myself care for him any more than I already do, because he could crush me with a finger. But in spite of that, when I pass by their booth to go help Jen and Anna remove tables to turn The Jukebox from diner to bar, my body goes numb when his hand touches mine.

I look down and see a square of white paper between his fingers, so I take it. I wait until I’m at the back room where we store the tables to open it.

I stare at that simple line for a while, considering if I should reply or not. I have no idea what’s happening between us. Regardless of my uncertainty, I take a pen from my pocket.

I fold the paper and inconspicuously hand it to Mathew as I walk back to remove some chairs. When I return from the storage room, Mathew calls me over for the check, and hands me another folded napkin.

Thrilled and scared shitless by that note, I don’t give myself time to overthink all the infinite ways this could end badly. I quickly ring Mathew’s check and pull out my pen from my pocket.

The moment I hand him the check and see the smile on his lips, I no longer care if my heart will be broken or not. Whatever this is, I’m in.

L
exie stops right in front of me with a bottle of Jack and a clean tumbler in her hands. “It’s your last chance, and she’s insisting.”

I don’t even look at the redhead at the other end of the bar who’s been eye-fucking me and offering drinks for the past three hours, and though normally I’d be all over her—literally—I’ve been refusing them all night. The reason for that is quite obvious: Lexie. However, since I returned from walking the Valentines home, she hasn’t spared me more than a few seconds. I get that she’s been busy behind the bar all night, but she had time to chat with Jen and Anna, and to talk to some douchebag sitting with his douchebag friends by the jukebox, so I don’t see why she doesn’t have time for me.