How We Are: A MFM romance

Tonight

Ezra

Dominique is definitely not normal. She starts staring at me when I come back.

"Your boyfriend?"

So she was paying attention.

"Best friend. He's just a...an asshole really. And you? Do you have a boyfriend?"

She turns around in her bar chair, leaning back with a smirk. "But...you two are totally fucking right? He definitely wants you, you know?"

Heh. I shrug. "No. We're not. Why? You into that kinda thing?"

She shrugs back, tossing her locs over her shoulder. He's watching me. Perfect. Keep watching.

"So you're trying to make him jealous or something?" She smirks, looking me up and down.

Her look stings with condescension and her words drip with disdain. Does she not...like me? That's so abnormal.

"Did I offend you?" I ask her softly, shooting her a wounded look.

She scoffs. "Does that work on him? That look? It's bullshit you know?"

I frown. Bullshit? Me? Bullshit? I find myself somewhat irritated with her. She speaks as if she knows me. Like she has the read on me and she's just humoring me.

Like I'm a joke.

I feel the corner of my eye twitch.

"Ha," I put a smile on face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Dominique just shrugs and goes back to her drink.  "Okay."

Like I'm not worth the consideration. Like...like she's above me.

I'm beneath her, a peasant unworthy of her attention and hey...normally I wouldn't care. I mean it's incredibly rare but...it's not possible for everyone to like me.

Be attracted to me.
Wanna fuck me.

I don't encounter it, I just assume it's true. If you fuck men you wanna fuck me, that's just...a fact. It's always been fact. But I'm sure somewhere in...Taiwan or Liberia or Azerbaijan or something...some woman doesn't find me attractive.

Obviously? Statistically someone's gotta think I'm ugly my ego can't fight math.

But not her. I definitely should be hot to her. Which brings me back. I'm not even seeing Cain right now. What did I do wrong? Was it the way I approached? Maybe she thinks I'm poor. I work here after all as a waiter.

But if I bring up money now it'll seem desperate and needy.

So I say nothing for a moment. Maybe she doesn't fuck white men. I think to ask and then realize we don't really know each other and that would be creepy.

But maybe that's it.

"He does," I say finally, rubbing my finger around the appletini I ordered. I'm not supposed to drink on my shift. I might do it anyway. "Fall for it, the look."

She nods, raising her brows, looking at the bottle of her empty glass, the condensation of the glass rolling onto her finger as she sets it down.

"Hm. I wonder how."

And that's that. It's a mild interest if you can call it that.

I've been bothering her for 10 minutes. I'm getting no where.

"Dominique?"

I stand, putting a few dollars for my drink on the bar.

She glanced at me from once her lashes, look ever disdainful. If I made her mascara run while I fucked her from behind would she still have that look?

I very much doubt it.

"Hm?"

"I hope you come to Luigi's again."

And that's that. I get up and finish my shift. I have to stay to close tonight, and of course, Cain will. He says the restaurant is his baby, and you never leave your babies with shitty teenagers.

I always point out that's essentially the definition of babysitting.

He always tells me to the shut the fuck up, because nobody asked me.

Guests trickle out. Dominique is still by the bar. Hours tick past. Soon everyone has gone home but the three of us. It's an hour before close and I'm in the kitchen, starting to mop.

Cain stands over me with crossed arms.

"What did she say?"

I wipe my brow as I rigorously push the mop along the floors.

"That she wanted to suck my dick for a buck,"

He narrows his eyes into skits, his thick, somehow perfectly arched brows furrowing deeply. When he frowns like that, his face clouds over.

He'd almost be scary if I didn't know him.

"M serious. What did she say?"

I pause, panting as I lean against the mop. "You gonna clean anything?"

And then his frown is gone. The clouds clear, a cocky smirk taking its place.

"Saw the twitch. You struck out didn't you? You little shit."

I scoff rolling my eyes. "Okay I didn't–I didn't strike out. She was...busy."

"Busy ignoring you," he offers with a smug chortle. My eye twitches once more.

"Why don't you go talk to her?" I reply in irritation, resuming my mopping. I swear these bastards fucking cook on the floor. This the second whole piece of fruit I've found.

And who was supposed to sweep this shit because they just didn't!

"I don't have to," he shrugs, the veins in his crossed arms catching my eye for a moment.

I suck my teeth and ignore him. He's quiet but he always is. And then I hear it. The sound his heavy work boots behind me, as they thud across the kitchen floor.

My stomach drops. Oh shit.

"Turn around."

Oh shit.

I swallow roughly, closing my eyes before sighing and turning around. Cain's voice is deep and it rumbles. It wonder he doesn't speak more often.

He looks over my face, carefully. A shiver runs down my spine, my stomach flipping.

Cain's dark eyes sear into my skin. "Pussy is pussy," is his simple statement.

But it's really a demand. Get the fuck over it.

"But—"

His eyes narrow. "Finish. When I get back be ready to go."

• • •

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