Raw, стр. 38

He says this as if that should explain it all. But I’m not satisfied with that. I ask, “How long have you been watching me?”

Looking me in the eye, his stare intensifies, “A long time.”

Clearing his throat, he leans forward and says things I never expected to hear. “When you’re an addict, becoming addicted to things is easy to do. And that’s a bit what I’m like. I have an addictive personality. So I stopped drugs, but got hooked on candy. Then I started going to the gym once a week to work off the candy. But it became an obsession. I need to work out three times a day. Then with you…” His gaze softens. “I told myself I would watch you the one time…” He trails off. And although I don’t get it, I understand what he’s saying.

It should be making me sweat, not making my heart swell the way it is. “I’m an addiction?”

He responds quietly, “The worst one. There’s no cure for that addiction.”

I respond breathily, “Oh.”

Suddenly frowning, he states, “I’m not a good person.” Leaning away from me, he adds, “You think a person like me deserves your type of goodness? No. I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.” Seeming frustrated with himself, he bites his thumbnail. “The thing is, I’m selfish. And I don’t give a fuck about what I deserve. All I care about is what I want. And I want you so fuckin’ bad that I’d do almost anything to keep you.”

Alarm bells ring in my head, but my heart flaps its hands their way, shushing them.

Once again, “Oh.” So quiet, I barely hear myself.

My mouth opens, ready to ask another question, when I spot Joe leading two men our way, their arms full of plates of food. A bubble of laughter pops out of me, and Twitch turns to look their way. He smiles and shakes his head.

Joe has one waiter bring over another table for all our plates. Each time he places one down, he explains in detail what the dish is and which part of Italy it originated from. We have steak, pasta, gnocchi, soup, a cheese platter, and thinly sliced prosciutto.

It looks heavenly.

Leaving us to eat with nothing more than a wink, I don’t wait for Twitch as I dig in to the gnocchi with rose sugo. I love gnocchi. I think gnocchi is seriously underrated. And this gnocchi is light and fluffy, like little cloud pillows that melt in my mouth. I believe my view needs to be vocalized. “Gnocchi is so delicious. I think it’s one of the most underrated foods. People should know how delicious gnocchi is.”

Twitch chews on his forkful of pasta and garbles, “I think you just like saying gnocchi.”

With an almost regal nod, I confirm his suspicion with a quiet, “That too.”

We talk a little more, much to my delight, and I find out that Twitch was a runaway who ended up in juvie for four years until his sixteenth birthday. I’d love to say this is an unlikely story, but working my job, I see it all the time.

“What were you in juvie for?” I ask, nibbling on some provolone cheese.

“Assault and battery.”

“That’s a long time for a child to go to juvie for assault.”

That’s when he adds vaguely, “Assault and battery of a police officer.”

My lips purse. Yeah. That’d do it.

Rolling up a slice of prosciutto, I fiddle with it longer than I should. “And the tattoos?”

He shrugs. “I got my first one at juvenile hall when I was fourteen. Then it became an addiction.” He wiggles his brows at the word addiction. “We didn’t have the right tools to make em look any good though. We used pins and pen ink. More often than not, they got infected.” He laughs, “A lot of the basic tattoos I had covered with new ones, but I still have some that mean something to me. They’re important. I keep ‘em to make sure I don’t forget.”

Although my mind grips me by the shoulders and shakes me while screeching, “Forget what? Ask him! Please, ask him!” I don’t ask. It seems too much for tonight; so with a smile, I let the conversation drift into a comfortable silence while we eat.

Finishing up our meal, I sink further into my chair and Twitch laughs. I’m rapidly falling into a food coma. When I spot Joe coming towards us with yet another plate, I mock sob and tell him as he approaches, “No more. Please. No more. If I eat one more bite, I’ll burst. Then you’ll have to clean up all the bits of Lexi around the place, and I’m sure that would be a safety hazard, not to mention wasting a crap load of delicious food that I wish to keep in my belly.”

Lifting my drowsy eyes to both men looking at me through crinkled eyes, I mutter, “It’s true. That would be tragic.”

Joe places the plate in front of Twitch, along with the bill, and I watch Twitch eat the entire piece of Tiramisu on his own while watching me. He places a few hundred dollar bills under the plate, reaches out to me, and helps me stand.

Linking our fingers, he pulls me close to his side. People watching us would be able to see we’re together. And I like that thought.

Walking me over to his sleek, sporty black Mercedes, he helps me in before seating himself. Once inside, he reaches over me and delves into the glove compartment. Taking out a small tin, he opens it, and my eyes widen in shock. Leaning over to him, I whisper-hiss, “Are you seriously rolling a doobie?”

Twitch’s body shakes in silent laughter. “They haven’t been called doobies in about ten years, babe. But yeah, I am.”

Suddenly, I feel like a cheerleader being caught out with the town ruffian. Looking over at me, his lip twitches as he states, “I bet you’ve never even smoked before.”

My face bunches in annoyance at his baiting. “Yes, I have, thank you very much. I was a teen once upon a time.”

He grins, holding out the unlit joint to me. I stare at it a long while before shaking my head. “I can’t. We get random drug tests at work.”

Twitch grins harder, “It’ll spend a day in your system. Is it a saliva test kit?” I nod and he leans closer to me, “Get high with me. I’d love to see you loose. Be loose with me tonight.”

Dipping my chin, my face heats.

I must look like a complete nerd.

Not letting me dim his party, he lights the joint and breathes in deeply. The pungent smell fills the air in the car and my mouth waters.

Turning to him, he holds his breath, the smoke along with it, and watches me through hooded eyes. My brain sizzles, then stops working. Unable to help myself, I lean over to him. He meets me halfway. So close that our lips touch, I close my eyes and part my lips. He exhales slowly, and I inhale, taking in the sweet, strong-tasting smoke.

I hold it in for what seems like forever.

My head spins and my eyes blink in slow motion.

Finally exhaling, I turn to the gorgeous man, looking at his dimly-lit face and ask, “Where are we going now?”

Without turning to me, he starts the car and responds, “Tonight, we party.”

Driving up the long driveway to my house, I park and notice Lexi spying all the cars that line the sides of the drive. It’s been a while since we threw a social party at the house between friends. Happy said we were overdue, and Ling seconded the motion. So here we are. Party central at my place.

I feel like I’m arriving at a party without an invitation, considering I don’t know who will be here. I let them sort the guest list.

A party guest list by me would include maybe ten people. Not much of a party, I guess.

What can I say? I don’t trust people. At the best of times, I don’t even like people.

Parking the car, I move to exit the car when Lexi tugs on my sleeve. “Before we go in, can I please talk to you about something?”

She says this so quietly that my lips turn down into a deep frown. We were having a good time tonight, and I know whatever she has to say is serious. Turning to look at her, I answer, “Sure.”