Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Finley returned then with our wine. He didn’t look at me as he set our glasses down, but his hands shook. I watched the liquid ripple as he pulled away. “Are you okay?” I asked, and his eyes snapped to mine, full of liquid silver.
“I…yes. Have you decided what you would like?”
I hadn’t even looked at the menu. A quick glance at David told me he was ready, so I nodded at him before returning my eyes to the boy. His hand shook as he wrote what David rambled off, words I tuned out, instead watching the waiter.
When his eyes found me again, I held his stare. Watching. Waiting. And yes, he did look at me as though he knew me, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out where from. The hospital, maybe? But then, why look at me the way he did? I knew I hadn’t played with him. I didn’t typically scene with men as young as him.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” I told Finley, even though I wasn’t sure what it was David had ordered.
“Yes, okay. It will be out soon.” Then he was gone again.
David and I spoke, but my mind stayed on the boy. He looked paler when he returned to bring us seared salmon, asparagus, and rice. He was still shaking, making me reach out in a way I shouldn’t and touch his arm. “I think maybe you should sit down.”
“I can’t.” He shook his head. “What? No.”
But then our eyes met again, and I knew…knew he wanted to do as I said, that he longed for it, not just because he didn’t feel well, but because I’d told him to. “Finley.”
“I…” he began, then turned quickly. Multiple things happened at once—his hand caught my wineglass, spilling it; he stepped forward, running into another waiter and making him drop his plates, which clattered loudly to the floor. Somehow, along the way, Finley had tumbled down too.
I shot to my feet, not because of the wine dripping onto my lap, but to reach for him. He scrambled backward as though afraid of me, making me frown. I held my hands up to show I wasn’t going to touch him.
“Finley! What are you doing?” Another man rushed forward, very obviously the manager. “Sir, I apologize for this. He’s new and—”
“It’s fine,” I said without turning from Finley. “It’s fine,” I repeated.
“I…” he began, then shook his head, shoved to his feet, and ran for the kitchen.
“Please accept my apology,” the manager told me. “We’ll get you a new table, and your meal will be on the house, of course.”
“We’ll pay,” I told him. “It was an accident.”
From the heat in his face, I had a feeling this wasn’t Finley’s only accident.
The second waiter was cleaning up the mess, and the manager began speaking to David, who I knew would also assure him everything was okay. I couldn’t keep my eyes from the kitchen, though. Was he okay? And why in the hell had he reacted to me the way he had?
When I felt a hand on my shoulder, I looked at David and realized the manager had gone. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” I replied.
“I was going to ask you if you wanted to fuck me tonight. You look like you need it, but I have a feeling that’s not going to happen, is it?”
I shook my head. No, it wasn’t.
They changed our table, but I couldn’t eat. It wasn’t long before David said, “I haven’t seen that waiter again.”
No, I hadn’t either. We likely wouldn’t. “I can’t… My head isn’t in this. I’ll get dinner, but I need to go.”
David shook his head. “I’m eating my salmon. You know how rarely I’m willing to submit, and if I’m not going to get that, I at least want to have my dinner. You go. I’ll get it this time.”
I gave him a simple nod and went outside. My pants were still wet from the spilled wine, and the light ghost of a wind twisting around me sent chills running through me. I scanned the lot, wondering if Finley was there. He’d likely lost his job tonight. I’d seen it in the way the manager had looked at him.
I walked around the building but didn’t see him. There was no way to find him, and really, it wasn’t my business anyway. I sent David a text to let me know if he saw Finley again.
A couple of minutes later, the valet brought me my car. I’d made it halfway up the block, when I saw a small body kneeling beside the bench at a bus stop. Jerking my BMW to the side of the road, ignoring the honks as I did so, I parked at a red curb and jumped out.
His eyes snapped up to me, and the moment they did, I saw he’d been vomiting.