Mr. Good Bad Guy

8 - Matchmaker

Dr. Acosta and I sat in his car in silence. Today's session had been productive, but not as productive as I'd hoped. I knew no one wanted to share their feelings in front of their cellmates, but that was pitiful. Men are so weird. They say women are complicated, but get shy when it's time to open up about something they're passionate about. I get that they feel they'll be judged, but it happens outside of prison walls, too. Although...it's understandable to keep quiet, knowing you'll get clowned about it 24/7 from the same people.

"Do you...want to go get lunch?" Dr. Acosta asked.

"Sure," I muttered.

"I know a good food truck not too far from here."

"Sounds good."

The entire ride was silent, but I was glad the food truck really wasn't far. Thank goodness I was in the mood for pork. I hadn't had pulled pork in so long. The girls and I usually opt for whatever the country club has to offer.

"I'll pay," he said.

"You don't have to." I pulled out my wallet.

"I suggested it, so I'll pay."

You don't have to tell me twice. Everything tastes better when it's free.

We sat down at one of the tables and just stared at everything but each other. I was afraid he'd catch me staring. While he was speaking to the prisoners, I stared at him as if I were studying him. I'm sure he noticed at some point. I mean, Dr. Acosta is a good looking guy. Especially since I know he isn't that much older than me. That makes him a bit more attractive. I can't say I'll date him, but all my cards are on the table.

His caramel skin seemed to glow in the strong afternoon sun. His lips were always pushed into a pout. Almost as if everything he thought about made him a little disappointed. Don't get me started on his hands. There aren't many guys in the world who take care of their hands like they should. Dr. Acosta had a perfect manicure. That just accentuated his long fingers. I could just feel him holding my hand.

"Thank you."

I snapped out of my daydream when he cleared his throat. I looked up at him and smiled sheepishly. Our food had arrived, but he hadn't picked up his sandwich.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Uhh...yeah." I cleared my throat. "Just...thinking."

I took a bite of my sandwich to keep from having to explain more. I mean, it was none of his business why I was thinking about his hands or his lips or his skin. It's embarrassing enough to have gotten caught staring so hard.

"Hey, you got a little..." Dr. Acosta leaned forward, without warning, and swiped his thumb across the corner of my mouth. Before I could give him a napkin, he licked his finger. My mouth dropped open in horror.

"S-s-sir..." I couldn't speak. "You...I–"

"Fuck! Shit! I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed. "I used to do that all the time when I was dating. Forgive me. It's a bad habit I haven't quite let go of. " He looked genuinely freaked out. "This is so...horrifying. Damn it."

I couldn't help but laugh. In my head, I knew he'd want me to forget this ever happened, but my heart was fluttering. Whoever dated him must have thought they had the best boyfriend in the world. How could they not want a man who makes sure they don't look stupid while eating?

"Sir, it's fine." I covered my smile. "You're fine."

Too fine.

🔅🔅🔅🔅🔅

What Dr. Acosta did during lunch was on my mind all day. I couldn't stop thinking about the face he'd made when he realized what he'd done. I mean, it wasn't not something nice to think about, but the guy was so caring. Now that I think about it, I'd seen him before. I just didn't remember where and when. There was a possibility I'll remember at the worst possible moment.