If you’d told me a week ago I’d be sitting down to eat dinner with Lance, on purpose, I’d have slapped you and called you clueless. But there we were, at one of my favorite restaurants, in a booth so small our legs were smashed against each other.
We munched on breadsticks until the waiter arrived. He had stark white hair, and his shoulders drooped as if he’d rather be napping in the back. He pulled his order pad from his apron so slowly it was fascinating to watch. “Drinks?” he asked, punctuating his question with a long sigh.
“What beers do you have on tap?” Lance asked, studying his menu.
“Just bottles.”
Lance glanced up with a frown. “Really?” He looked in the direction of the bar. “I could swear I saw some of those beer tap handle things.”
Another long sigh preceded the waiter’s speech. “There’s a problem with the pressure in the system. All we have for now is bottled beer.”
Lance looked disappointed.
“We can leave and go to another restaurant if you had your heart set on beer on tap,” I said.
He grimaced. “Nah. I’ll just have a Negra Modelo if you have it?”
“We do.” The waiter turned to me. “And for you?”
“Same.”
He shuffled away and I suppressed a laugh. “I eat here during the day usually. I guess they save the… mature… or experienced shift for the nighttime.”
Lance snorted. “Mature? He makes Dracula look like a youngin’.”
“God. I know. Sorry.”
“I’m kidding.” He glanced around the dark restaurant, taking in the dated wallpaper and ornate chandelier over the bar. “This is… unique.”
I laughed. “The food is really good. I swear.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here.” He went back to studying his menu. “What do you normally get?”
My mouth watered as I thought about the food. “I almost always get either the Paccheri alla Norma or the Lasagna alla Bolognese.” I swallowed my drool. He glanced up and his warm brown gaze made my stomach tense. God, he was so sexy. He didn’t have to do a damn thing and he made my crotch warm. “They’re both great.”
“Norma-style paccheri pasta with pan-fried aubergines, organic tomato sauce, and salted ricotta.” He read aloud the description of one of the dishes I’d mentioned. “That sounds tempting even though I only recognize the word pasta.”
“You’d love it.”
He closed his menu. “Then that’s what I’ll get.”
“I’ll get the Bolognese, and then you can taste that too.” I set the menus on the edge of the table.
“You don’t have to do that.”
I shrugged. “I told you I only get either one of those.”
“So you’re a creature of habit?” He smiled. “I’m learning about you already.”
I avoided his gaze. “And you like beer on tap.”
“Yeah. Like half the city.”
I kept my eyes down until the server came back and brought our drinks. Then Lance reached across and held out his beer in a toast. “To not judging a book by its cover.”
“Are we the books in this example?”
“Yep.”
I tapped his bottle with mine. “It’s a nice thought.”
“You don’t think people can do it?” He sipped his beer.
“Our covers are all anyone cares about.” The cold ale tasted great, and I sighed and set my bottle down. “For example, if you and I both went into a job interview, they would hire you.”
He frowned. “Says who?”
“Me. You have a much better cover than me.”
“What? No way.”
I chuffed. “You’re wearing a Diesel top that costs like two hundred bucks and I’m…” I looked down at my frayed discount-store shirt. “And I’m not.”
“Maybe you have that all wrong. Maybe the prospective employer would think I’d want to get paid more to feed my designer-clothing habit.” He smirked. “So he’d hire you.”
“It still would be based on judging us by our outward appearance or cover.”
He pushed his tongue into his cheek. “I see what you did there.”
I held his amused gaze. “Just making a point.”
“Okay, so everybody judges everybody by first impressions. So what? Once you get to know someone, those ideas can change.”
“Perhaps.” I licked the tangy beer from my lips and noticed a lusty spark in his gaze.
He cleared his throat and dragged his eyes from my mouth. “Let’s take us, for example. I know when you first met me you thought I an arrogant, horny dick.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah.”
He grimaced. “But now you can see I’m more than that.” He winced. “At least I hope you can.”
I leaned back in the booth and held his gaze. The beer made me feel warm and relaxed. “Your apology was shocking,” I said softly.
He pinched the skin between his eyes and gave a sheepish laugh. “To both of us.”
“Really?”
The waiter arrived just then to take our food order. After he left I pinned Lance with my curious gaze. I wanted to ask him more about why he’d decided to apologize to me, but I didn’t want to annoy him by bringing it up again.
As if he’d read my mind, he leaned forward. “Ask me anything.”
My stomach tumbled at the huskiness of his voice. “Why did you?”
“Apologize?”
“Yeah.”
“When I saw you at Le Pain Quotidien, I felt like an idiot.” He laughed. “I was feeling pretty self-righteous at first. I kept telling myself you were just an uptight loser.”
“Maybe I am.”
He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t think so.”
I pressed my lips tight and held his gaze, feeling uneasy. He made me uncomfortable because I could tell he was perceptive. From his shrewd expression, I sensed he suspected I was hiding something. But I didn’t want to tell him about my past. It wasn’t the kind of thing I could just share casually over dinner. And I barely knew him. I didn’t share intimate details about myself with people I’d just met.
“You’re guarded. But I think you have a reason. I don’t think you just woke up one day and decided to be closed off from the world.”
I ran a finger under my collar. “How about we talk about you?”
“I’m pretty boring.”
“So am I.”
“I don’t think you’re boring.”
I wiped the perspiration from my face. “I don’t like discussing myself.”
“You don’t have to give me any details.” He sighed. “I’m just trying to say I think I know why my flirting with you pissed you off so much. It brought up something from your past and you reacted accordingly.”
My face flushed at how astute he was, and I looked away. My heart rate was definitely elevated, and I tried to steady my nerves as my heart banged against my ribs. Calm down. You’re fine. I stared blankly across the restaurant, attempting to relax.
“Don’t worry.” He sighed. “I’m not going to ask you about it.”
I swallowed hard and met his gaze suspiciously.
He held up one hand. “Swear to God. You can tell me when you’re ready.”
“That will never happen,” I snapped.
His jaw tensed and he shrugged. “Then it never happens. I don’t care.”
I finished off my beer and set the bottle down with a bump. The more I thought about the two of us, the less I trusted his motives for trying to befriend me. I’d been down this road before; someone being all sweet and flattering just to lure you into a false sense of security. “Why are we here?”
“To eat dinner.”
“And that’s all?”
He laughed like he thought I was joking. But when he realized I wasn’t, he frowned. “I just want to get to know you better.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” I felt overheated and like I couldn’t catch my breath properly. With a sinking heart, I recognized the beginnings of a panic attack. Shit. Shit. Shit. I hadn’t had one in years. “I’m not your kind of person,” I mumbled.
Pulling his brows tight, he asked, “Why not?”
“Just look at us.” I tugged at my collar because it felt too tight. I tried to remember some of the techniques I’d learned to cope with my panic attacks, but my brain was fuzzy. Slow. Deep. Complete breaths. I couldn’t seem to manage even one full breath. “I can’t figure out what you want from me.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Everybody wants something.” Sweat beaded on my upper lip, and my heartbeat felt irregular. Anxiety nipped at me as adrenaline continued to flood my body, and I pressed my hand to my chest and closed my eyes.
Fuck.
“Scottie, are you okay?” His voice was hushed.
“Give me a minute.” I felt nauseated and embarrassed. What had brought this on? Jesus, we were just talking, and then suddenly I felt super paranoid and like I was gonna die. I opened my eyes and found Lance staring at me intently.
“Did I say something wrong?” he asked, his eyes glittery and concerned.
I shook my head and prayed my heartbeat would calm. “I just… I just get these… attacks every now and then.” I sounded breathless, and I decided to shut up and just try not to pass out. I gripped my cloth napkin and twisted it hard around my hand, trying to distract myself with pain.
“I obviously said something that triggered you.” Lance wrinkled his brow. His gaze dropped to the scar on my jaw and his gaze softened.
“I can’t breathe,” I muttered, putting my hand to my throat.
“You can breathe, Scottie. You’re just hyperventilating.”
“No… there’s not enough air in here.”
He didn’t say anything else. He simply stood and pulled something from his pocket. “It’s fine. Let me help you.” I recognized the thing he’d pulled from his pocket as a small brown paper bag. He dumped the contents of ChapStick and gum on the table and knelt beside me.
“Breathe into this.” His voice was calm, and he held the open end of the bag up to my face.
With shaking hands, I grabbed the bag and pushed it to my face. At first it felt even worse, but I just kept sucking air in and out with great concentration as the bag collapsed and expanded. I began to manage slow, even puffs of air, exhaling and inhaling as steadily as I could manage. I noticed people at the nearby tables staring at me, but I just closed my eyes and kept trying force air into my lungs.
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Lance stroked my back softly and stayed next to me. “You’re going to be fine.”
It felt like an hour passed as I struggled to get my oxygen regulated. But eventually my chest loosened, and the warm air from the bag began to fill my lungs. My heartbeat slowed to a normal rate, and the panic slowly drained from my limbs. Feeling weak, I pulled the bag away and met Lance’s concerned gaze.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I couldn’t believe how kind and patient he’d been to me. I’d half expected him to leave me here because I was making such a spectacle of myself. But he hadn’t. He’d soothed me and calmed me as if it was the most natural thing in the world to him.
“No problem.” His eyes were darker than usual. “Do you get panic attacks a lot?”
I shook my head. “Not anymore. I used to. But it hasn’t happened for a long time.” I swallowed hard and leaned back against the booth. Now that I wasn’t hyperventilating, I was more aware of all the people staring at me.
Lance noticed too. “Fuck this. I have beer at my place. Let’s get the food to go.” He stood and threw a wad of cash on the table.
“No,” I said feebly as I stared at the money.
“Be quiet,” he grumbled. He put his hand under my elbow and helped me out of the booth.
“I’ll pay you back.”
“Shhh,” he said. The waiter approached looking confused. “Can we get our food to go?”
“Of course.” He made a U-turn and headed for the kitchen.
I leaned on Lance because my legs felt like Jell-O. His warm body pressed against mine felt nice, and I inhaled his heady cologne. We went to the lobby of the restaurant, and the waiter came out to us with a big bag. He handed us the food, and Lance led me outside.
The evening was balmy and warm, and the sweet scent of crabapple trees filled the night. I felt humiliated at what had happened. I shot a nervous glance toward Lance, but his expression was inscrutable.
“I can just go home.” I was positive he didn’t want to waste another minute with me, and I didn’t blame him.
He scowled. “What?” He grabbed my arm and pulled me after him. “First of all, we still need to eat. Secondly, what kind of a douche would let you get on the subway right now?” He shook his head.
“I’m not your problem.” My voice wobbled.
“Stop it, Scottie. We’re going to my apartment. You’re gonna eat and relax without people staring at you.” He exhaled roughly. “And I’m not going to hit on you or do anything that might upset you. Okay?”
I held his frustrated gaze, and my chest warmed with gratitude. “Okay,” I said quietly. The thought of trying to ride the subway in the shape I was in was daunting.
As we made our way along the sidewalk, the firm feel of his hand on my back helped relax me. I definitely knew I’d misjudged Lance, and I felt bad about it. He could have just walked me to the subway station and washed his hands of me. But instead he was continuing to nurture me and try and help. That was the moment I realized I had to rethink everything I’d ever assumed about Lance.