She frees a trapped breath, nodding. “Yeah, there’s that.” She starts counting down on her fingers again. “And then there’s the no wearing your shirt thing and being all sweaty.”
I pick at the piece of gauze on my hand, chuckling. “So are you saying that my sweaty, shirtlessness turns you on too much?”
She nods, her honesty astounding me. “It really, really does.”
I protect my eyes from the sun with my hand as I slump back in the chair. “But it’s super hot here.”
“I know.” Her fingers enfold around the dewy glass of water and she picks it up. “How about you just keep your distance whenever you have your shirt off?”
“I guess I could do that,” I reply unenthusiastically, unable to stop staring at her mouth as she drinks from the straw. “But what about you?”
“What about me?”
“It’s clear that I’m attracted to you, so how are you going to prevent that?”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s unmistakably amused and flattered. “You just let me worry about that.”
“What are you going to do? Shave your head and wear sweat pants every day? Because I hate to break it to you, but you’d probably still be attractive.”
She traces her tongue across her teeth, stifling a smile. “Rule number two,” she says, sidetracking the conversation, “no more flirting.”
I snort a laugh. “That is never going to happen. It’s part of who I am.”
She crosses her legs and squares her shoulders. “Well, you’re just going to have to find someone else to do that with.”
“Sorry, I can’t.” I give an unapologetic shrug. “I’m fine with rule one but rule two is never going to work.”
She sighs, but it’s unclear if it’s a defeated sigh or an annoyed one. “And rule number three, no drugs or drinking.”
I deliberate what she’s said, wondering if I can do it and if I even want to. “I’m not sure I can do that, either.”
“Then I guess we can’t be friends.”
“Right now, you’re putting a lot of faith in the fact that you assume I want to be friends with you.”
She arches her brow. “Don’t you?”
I dither. “Maybe.”
She examines her fingernails. “Well, it’s your choice.” She appears unconcerned but if I look close enough I can almost see a wall around her, put there to protect herself. Why can I see it? Maybe I do the same thing.
“No, I want to be your friend,” I tell her guardedly. “But I have to ask... Why all the rules all the time? I mean, you’re making these rules now and then there’s the no guys rule.”
Her hand lowers to the table. “Because they’ll keep me from getting wrecked again.”
My jaw practically hits my knees at the honesty her words carry.
“Look.” She leans forward. “You saw the little fight between Conner and me and you know we divorced two years ago. Well, he also got arrested a little over two years ago, so I’m sure you can put two and two together as to why.”
Sadly, I can. The fact that Conner almost hit her that night probably means that he used to beat her and that’s why they’re divorced now.
“Okay, I get it. But can I just ask why?” I ask. “Why would you want to help me after the stuff that you’ve been through? It seems so much easier just to walk away?”
“Walking away isn’t always as easy as it sounds. And I’m helping you because I need to. Not just for you but for me. You remind me so much of myself, lost and confused”—she lifts her shoulder and shrugs like she really doesn’t understand it herself—“and in need of some help.”
“And what do you need, Avery? Who helps you?”
Her hazel eyes reflect in the sunlight as she stares up at the sky. “I’m still trying to figure that out.” A haunting look fills her expression and when she glances back at me all I see is pain. So much agony.
But before I can ask her about it, the waitress delivers our mozzarella sticks. The interruption is kind of an icebreaker and then our conversation drifts back to mundane things.
“I used to work here,” Avery tells me as she dunks a mozzarella stick into the bowl of marinara sauce. “As a waitress.”
“How long ago was that?” I pluck a mozzarella stick from the plate between us.
“A couple of years ago.” Her tongue glides out of her mouth and she licks the marinara off the mozzarella stick.
The sight of her tongue making that movement makes me go rock hard, and I have to adjust.
“I bet you made a good waitress. You have good people skills.” And a fucking body that probably makes every guy want to tip her generously.
“I did okay.” She pops the mozzarella stick into her mouth then cleans off her fingers on a napkin. “It’s definitely not what I want to do with my life, though.”
“And bartending is?” I bite the mozzarella stick.
She shakes her head. “No way. Benny’s a decent boss but I hate the environment... and some of the stuff I have to do.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Flexible hours. Pays well.” She shrugs. “Benny lets me do his books too, so it should help when I graduate. At least I hope it does.”
“Books?” I stuff the rest of the mozzarella stick into my mouth. “Like illegal booking?”
She laughs, nearly choking on her food. “No, books as in his records and payroll and stuff.” She picks at the napkin. “It’s my major—accounting.”
“Awe, the boring major.” I give her a lopsided grin when her gaze darts up and her eyes narrow at me. “Hey, you said it first.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” The hardness in her eyes diminishes. “I’m getting a minor in astronomy though, for fun.”
“You like the stars?”
She presses her lips together and nods. “Yeah, kind of.” Her eyes light up, revealing a deep love. “Well, a lot actually,” she admits. “Probably way more than is healthy.”
“So do you know all the constellations?” My gaze floats to the sky even though it’s broad daylight.
“Well, not all of them,” she explains. “That’s nearly impossible.”
“So why don’t you do that?” My gaze resides on her. “Do something in Astronomy? If you like it so much.”