Nicholas

 

 

I don't know how the fuck I ended up here. I'm not talking about this burger place less than two blocks from Sophia's office. I'm talking about how I wound up practically begging a woman I don't even know to have dinner with me. Technically, this isn't dinner in my book. I eat at eight or nine o'clock. The reason behind that is evident in this restaurant. The majority of the clientele is either under the age of ten-years-old or over the age of eighty.

"How did you become famous?" Sophia asks before she sucks on the end of the straw that leads to the iced coffee she ordered.

I stare at her mouth and those bright crimson lips. My cock isn't going to behave through this dinner and that's a problem. It's not because I mind rocking a hard-on in front of a beautiful woman. I don't. If that doesn't physically say, I want you, I don't know what does. The issue is the group of children sitting with their parents at the table next to us.

"I wrote a good book," I answer without thinking. I get that I often sound like an egomaniac. I haven't always. There was a time when I was thrilled with the idea of anyone reading my work, but reality gets blurred when people start handing you checks with a lot of zeroes and women throw themselves at your feet.

I've tried to stay grounded but it's fucking hard when you're recognized almost everywhere you go and your bank account is a constant reminder of how many people crave your work.

"I design cute clothes," she counters with a smirk. "I'm asking how you got noticed, Nicholas? What did you do to get your work in front of the right people?"

The answer is simple, so I go with that. "I went back to the starting line."

"How so?" She sucks on the straw again, this time closing her eyes.

I cross my legs, willing my cock to calm the hell down.  "I was sending out queries to agents for years. That started when I was in high school."

"I take it you had no success with that."

It's a fair assumption considering I only hit it big two years ago when I was twenty-six. "It was a waste of time. Years lost."

She nods like she gets it. I know she does. I checked out the time stamps on some of her older posts on her website. She's been designing clothing and uploading pictures of those items to her site for years. "When you stopped sending out queries, what did you do next?"

"Focused on college," I say quickly in response. "I went to school, studied writing and improved my craft."

"I've thought about taking a year off to go to design school, but I think I'm past that." She looks over at the kids next to us. "I see what the designers at Foster come up with on a daily basis."

"You think you're better than they are?"

Her eyes travel the length of the room before the settle back on my face. "I know that I am."

I smile. "Confidence is something I lacked after college. You've got it in spades, so you're ahead of the game."

"You weren't confident when you were twenty-four?"

"You're twenty-four?" There's no surprise in my tone. She looks young. I wouldn't have pegged her younger than she is, but it's obvious I have a few years on her. "I'm twenty-eight."

"I know." She taps the end of the straw with the pad of her index finger. "You weren't the only one searching for information online. I looked you up too."

I feel a rush of satisfaction knowing that. "What did you find?"

It's a question I instantly regret. I've stopped doing searches for my name because of all the shit that's unrelated to my work that's out there.

"Well," she drawls through a wide grin. "I found out that there are a lot of your books in Manhattan with lunch invitations written in them."

I sigh, looking at her face. "There's a few, Sophia. I wouldn’t say there's a lot."

"I would." Her eyes brighten. "If it works for you, that's great. I happen to think it's a lame approach."

"No shit," I say before I clamp my hand over my mouth in response to a loud huff from the table next to us. "The swear police are on patrol."

"Little ears." She taps her earlobe causing the small silver earring to sway. "I'm trying to curse less. My best friend is having a baby in a few months and I want to make a good impression on him."

She's too fucking sweet.

"Tell me where you see yourself in a year." I take a sip of the now tepid lemon water I ordered. "Where do you want your design business to be precisely a year from now?"

She hesitates briefly. "I want to be working for myself. I want my designs to be available in a retail setting… or, I want to be able to sell custom pieces from my website. Wait. I want both. I want to have both of those things in a year."

I don't point out the fact that she's not completely sure where she wants to be. I also don't mention that she has a lingering trace of the cream from her coffee on her bottom lip. "You can make both those things a reality if you set your mind to it."

"It's not as easy as wishing for it." Her gaze follows the server's movements as he places our meals in front of us.

I opted for a double cheeseburger and fries. Sophia chose a grilled chicken burger with a salad but it's impossible to ignore the way she's eyeing up my burger. "I want to taste the chicken so let's split our burgers. I'll take half of yours and you take half of mine."

"You want us to share?"

I don't want to share. I want her to myself even though we've barely spent thirty minutes in total together. "No, I don't want to share."

"You said you want to taste the chicken." She smiles as she pops a thinly sliced radish into her mouth. "You can have a bite if you want."

I shake my head and cross my legs tighter, my cock still not cooperating. "Give me half, Sophia. I'll give you half of mine."

"Deal," she says as he tongue glides over her bottom lip. "You're not as big of an asshole as I thought you were."

We both cringe when we hear the chorus of giggles next to us.