Unexpected

Chapter 18

Dane

I watch her fluttering around the kitchen, grabbing stuff to set the small table I'm now sitting at. I don't fully understand my frustration with her. Why should I care if she wants to put herself in a situation that could potentially be harmful? She is a grown ass woman after all I observe with my eyes that skim over her curves.

"What would you like to drink?" she asks, looking into her refrigerator. "I've got tea, water,  and Sprite."

"Water is fine."

A few moments later, we are sitting across from each other silently consuming the casserole, and damn, if it ain't good. I mentally tell myself to slow down. I haven't had a home cooked meal in so long.

"This is really good," I comment between bites.

"Thanks," she answers with a small smile and goes back to eating.

"So, where'd you meet this Jonathan?"

"At work."

"Where do you work?"

"I'm the head librarian."

I can't help my smirk as I say, "That figures."

"Why do you say that?" she squints her eyes at me.

"No disrespect, but you do have the look going on." I move my fork up and down, indicating her outfit; black pleated dress pants, silky blouse, flats, hair in a bun, and big green tortoiseshell glasses to top it all off.

"There's nothing wrong with the way I dress."

"I didn't say there was. It's just very . . . predictable is all."

She pouts a little and continues to eat.

"So, Jonathan wants to bang the librarian."

She coughs and sputters on the water she was trying to sip.

"Excuse me?" she asks once she has recovered.

"Come on, don't tell me you haven't heard that cliche before." She stares at me, waiting for me to continue. "You know, guy fantasies? There's the school teacher, nurse, or the hot librarian." I watch in amusement as her face goes ten shades of red.

"I . . . I don't know what you mean," she states, staring down at her plate in obvious embarrassment.

"Well, you're about to." Her head pops up, eyes big as saucers. "On Saturday . . . with Jonathan," I clarify.

"Oh! I don't  think so. I'm not that kind of girl." She looks away again.

"I'm glad," I say, meaning it. Suddenly, I feel something furry go across my leg, causing me to jump. "What the hell?!" I look under the table and see a white fluffy cat.

"That's Mr. Pickles. Don't mind him. He's sweet."

"You named your cat Mr. Pickles?" I scoff.

"Yeah, so?"

"That literally makes no sense."

"Yes, it does! Pickles are my absolute favorite food, and he is a male. So, Mr. Pickles makes perfect sense," she argues.

"If you say so," I laugh.

"What's your dog's name?"

"Bull," I say proudly, knowing where this is going.

"What breed is he?"

"An English Bulldog. See logical." I tap the side of my head for emphasis.

"And TOTALLY UNCREATIVE," she counters with a shrug of her shoulders dismissively.

I lean back against my chair and smile at her appreciatively. She does have some spunk behind all that shyness after all. 

She blushes and looks away. "Um, I better start cleaning up." She stands and begins to gather the empty dishes off the table.

"Here, let me help you." I go to take a dish from her, but she jerks it back.

"No!" She softens her tone. "No, it's okay. I got it. Thanks for the company, and I hope you have a good rest of your night."

Surprised by the sudden dismissal, I answer simply. "Uh, yeah. I'll see ya later then." 

I showed myself out slightly irritated, but mostly disappointed.