The zipper stuck halfway up my trouser, because of course it did. Perfect. The morning hadn't even started, and I was already losing the battle against fabric.
Then, a knock on the door.
"Who's there?" I asked, curiously.
"It's me. Teejay."
I rushed to open it.
"Hey, what are you doing here?"
"I need a place to crash. My roommate brought a call girl to the house last night, and they've been making a lot of noise. I barely had any sleep," Teejay explained, dragging a hand down his tired face.
I stepped aside to let him in.
"I think I need to start looking for a new apartment. And probably a roomie," he added.
"Why do you always let him treat you like that? It's not fair."
"It's his house. I don't really have much of a voice," he muttered, collapsing onto the couch. His eyes roamed the room lazily. "What about you? Aren't you looking for a roommate?"
I didn't reply. I was too busy stuffing a notepad into my bag, so it doesn't look too light.
"Won't you have me?" he pressed.
I turned to face him fully.
"Are you going somewhere?"
"Yeah... I'm going to see a friend," I replied, keeping my tone light.
"A friend," he repeated slowly. "Who's this friend?"
I rolled my eyes. "It's really none of your business." I inhaled. "Are you gonna be here when I get back?"
"No." His eyes were still scanning me, curiously.
"Alright. Drop the key inside the flower pot. See you later." I rushed out before he could ask more questions.
I'd woken up early that morning and Googled how to act on a date with a billionaire. None of the suggestions helped, so I'd decided I'd just be Zoey Blossoms. That was it.
The cab dropped me off at Brew and Bite Café; my choice of location. Through the glass, I spotted him sitting by the window, a crisp button up shirt paired with a well-fitted blazer and a dark jeans. The late-morning light caught the edges of his profile. Gosh! he's.. hot.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I froze for half a second, clutching my bag like it might hold the answer to every bad decision I'd ever made. My jeans suddenly felt too tight, my legs too heavy, and my stomach a knot of excitement and dread. I'd agreed to go out with Mr Grand, and I couldn't tell if I was walking into a fairy tale or a trap.
He stood immediately he saw me, pulling my chair out. "Hi."
I exhaled softly. "Hi."
We sat, the air between us charged. His gaze lingered just a fraction too long, and my pulse ticked upward.
The server appeared with menus, passing them to us. We scanned the options.
"I'll have a slice of cheesecake with a latte." My voice was steady despite the heat crawling up my neck.
"Smoked salmon on artisan bread with an Americano," Mr. Grand said, then handed the menu back.
"What about dessert?" the server asked.
"We'll go with your recommendation," Mr. Grand replied, his eyes still locked on me.
I nodded, wordless, before the server disappeared.
Mr. Grand's gaze dipped briefly to my mouth and I shifted in my seat, tugging at my top like it would shield me from the intensity radiating across the table.
"Tell me about you," he said.
I shrugged. "There really isn't much to know about me."
"Then tell me the few," he insisted.
"I recently graduated from the University of Washington where I studied Journalism and Media Communications. Now I work as an intern at Buzzbar to gain the necessary work experience and at night, I work at Millie's. That's all."
He didn't respond, just watched me.
I let out a small, nervous laugh. "You see? I told you, there's really nothing about me."
"Why do two jobs, Zoey?"
"Zoey Blossoms..." I swallowed, "because I love to do two jobs." I gave him a sheepish smile.
That pulled a faint chuckle from him.
"How old are you?" he asked.
The server returned, setting down our plates and drinks.
"Twenty-one," I replied. "The paper says you're twenty-seven. Is that your real age?"
"Yes."
I took a sip of my latte. The bitter warmth steadied me.
"What about your parents?" he asked.
"Okay... My mom left when I was three, so it's just me and my dad. He stays in Florida."
"Your mom left to where?"
"I don't know."
Silence settled between us, but his gaze stayed, steady and unblinking, his food untouched, he probably doesn't eat at places like this.
Every time I tried to take a bite, the weight of his eyes made me choke just a little.
"Do you ever get bored of being Valor Grand?" I asked. Anything to ease the tension a bit.
"No."
I looked up at him.
"I like to be in charge," he added.
"You're proud," I murmured, biting the inside of my cheek.
A smile tucked over his lip. "That's not what I call it."
"What do you call it?"
His stare lingered for a moment long. "Confident."
My pulse tripped again.
"If there's something you want to ask, don't hold back," he said.
I inhaled. "A few days ago, you said you don't do dating. And yesterday, at Millie's, you said you wanted me. What does that mean?"
"It's a warning."
"From what?"
"Me."
I took a moment, trying to process the simplicity and weight of that answer.
"I'm trying to figure out the level of your innocence. Are you pretending to me right now?"
"Wouldn't you know if I were?"
He sighed. "The guy at the bar, is he your boyfriend?"
"Teejay? He's my friend."
His gaze lingered again.
"What are you thinking?" I asked, uneased.
"I'm thinking of letting you go. You're too goodgirl for me."
"I don't understand."
"I don't want you to understand."
Outside, rain began to tap against the café window, soft at first, then steady, like the sky had decided to join in whatever this was. His gaze flicked briefly toward the glass, but he didn't move, didn't break eye contact as if the storm outside didn't matter.
"Are you messing with me?" My voice was barely above a whisper.
"No."
I exhaled slowly and for a moment, forgot how to breathe. My pulse was everywhere, in my ears, my throat, the tips of my fingers. I clutched my bag.
"Goodbye Mr. Grand."