“Fill me in.” Nathalie breaks my daydreaming with her hypnotic voice.
“On what?” I lean back in the plastic booth, resting my arm on the top.
“Last night, stupid,” she drawls, lifting her eyes to roll them at me.
“You know, you have a real problem,” I tell her, mimicking her eye roll. She just stares at me, and I can tell she doesn’t get what I’m talking about. “Your eyes are going to get stuck like that, and you’ll forever be staring at your brain.” Of course, she just rolls her eyes at me—again.
“Then I won’t have to look at your ugly face,” she says, making sure to lift those light eyes again. Her lip curls in such a way that I want to lean forward and suck on it, pulling it into my mouth. I crave tasting her so much it almost hurts me to deny myself the pleasure.
“You’ve wounded me deeply.” I play with her, placing my hand on my chest with a fake dagger stabbing into my rotten, black heart.
“Tell me, you brat,” she says, taking the salt shaker and dropping few kernels onto the table to amuse herself. They line up on the beige table in a near perfect line. I don’t know what she knows about me, but it feels like she doing it on purpose to toy with me. She takes her long nails and drags them through the white salt, making the line even more narrow and long.
I don’t like seeing it in front of her—more so since I’m sitting right here staring, wondering what she’s doing. It looks so appetizing and perfect, almost real. It calls to me, telling me I can forget it all with just one hit. I consider taking it all in my nose right then, but realize that it’s fucking salt.
I blow out a breath, ruining her line and making the salt blow back onto her lap. She frowns at me as she dusts it off of her. She looks up, her eyes hard.
“Why’d you do that?” She situates herself back in the seat after standing so the salt slides off of her. She stares at me longer, trying to dig her way into my soul. I take the salt shaker and place it next to me so she can’t touch it anymore and tease me.
“You were acting like a child.” I dig into her sore spot. I can see in her eyes that I’ve hurt her. I’ve upset her just like I wanted to and made myself into the bad guy—a role I am used to playing.