Learning How to Bend

NaNo Day 9 - Maybe I'll write more today?

His chair creaked as he leaned back against it. That meant he leaned forward at some point. When or why, I could not be sure. I heard him pick up his glass and swallow and for a couple seconds. When he put down the glass, he still remained silent, but I had a feeling he was studying me, trying to figure out of I had ulterior motives.

"Do you like coffee?" I suddenly blurted.

"What?"

"I was thinking earlier that we don't actually know things like that about each other, so I'd like to know." I paused, waiting for him to say something. When he did no such thing, I rolled my eyes and answered my own question. "I don't like it much. It's almost bearable with creamer. I only drink it when I have to."

"I like it black," he said.

"Let me guess. No McDonald's or Starbucks coffee for you? Only the best, imported from...some country that makes coffee? Brazil? Colombia?"

"McDonald's, no. Starbucks, rarely. It's what we get for meetings and conferences."

"I get mine from a grocery store down the street from my apartment," I said. "Sometimes I'll splurge and buy some locally roasted stuff at a farmer's market, but I mostly stick to the store's brand."

"You haven't tried the right coffee," he said.

"Is that an invitation to try some of yours?"

There was silence for a beat before he answered. "Maybe."

My heart lurched. Why did it do that? Why did that prospect make me smile? No. Get off my face, smile. Wait, no, that did not mean I wanted you to get bigger. Think of something else, I thought. But I could not. Thaddeus wanted to spend time with me. There was no denying that.

"Why?" I had not meant to ask, but it slipped. Too late to take it back now.

"Why what?"

"Be honest with me," I said, pushing manners aside to put my elbow on the table as I rubbed my forehead. "I don't understand. Please, help me understand what this is."

"What?"

I stopped rubbing my temple to casually gesture between him and me. "What is it you want from me? I know you appreciate my input—even if you don't really mention it, which is not what I'm looking for—but...This restaurant is incredibly nice. There weren't even prices on the menu."

"Your menu."

I waved him off. "You sent me an invitation in Braille. Not a text. Not a phone call. A formal invitation. What is it you want from me? Because I don't play games. I'm not going to be your next fling or booty call. I have too much dignity for that. Excuse my bluntness, but if you want something from me—something past a business relationship, especially if you're considering something past friendship—you need to tell me. I know your reputation. Everyone does. I'm not willing to be another casualty, buried in a broken-heart graveyard."

He remained silent.

"Thaddeus...please."

I heard him move again, the fabric of his tailored suit swishing softly as he ran his fingers through his hair. I had made him uncomfortable. The implacable Thaddeus, who had the personality of a rock, was uncomfortable. I did not expect that. I clicked, the sound barely audible, and I reached forward to put my hand over his. I did not know why I did it. I could not tell if Thaddeus appreciated it or not, for he seemed almost as statue-like as before. His pointer finger twitched, moving slightly out of the way and allowing the same finger on my hand to slip between his pointer finger and his middle one. My fingertip hit the table. I did not dare to even breathe, worried doing so would spoil the moment.