Yeah, I feel bad for the guy. Seeing him passed out on his porch, drunk from whiskey, I felt like I had to say something. I promised myself I would stay away. I mean, he was kind of a dick to me, though I laid it on pretty thick. But I guess he’s not harming anyone and he lives in the neighborhood. I can’t hold too many grudges. It’s only my third day in town.

I head into the diner that I saw him in the other day. I sit down and order some food. Since they’re renovating my entire kitchen, I figure I have some time to eat and explore. Plus, after seeing Soren earlier, I felt like I needed something in my system.

“What’re you having?” an old waitress stands above me, holding a pen and notepad, waiting to hear my order.

“Traditional Breakfast. Over easy eggs, and burnt bacon,” I say. “Oh! And a coffee with two creams.”

“Got it,” she says. Then, she looks up and puts her notepad down. She smiles a little and says, “Say, you’re that girl from yesterday, aren’t you?”

“From yesterday?” I ask, bewildered.

“The girl outside, talkin’ to that big burly guy,” she says. “Come on, now. I know it was you talkin’ to him.”

“Yeah, that was me. So what?” I ask.

“You know that man? Or are you just an acquaintance?” she asks.

“I just met him the other day,” I tell her, getting annoyed. Why is this woman prying into my business? “So what? Why are you watching me?”

“There’s no need to get angry, now. I just thought it was curious. We all know the Payne family. Who are you? His new girlfriend?”

“Um, what? Girlfriend? No,” I laugh.

“Well, it’s curious that he’s back. I swear, that family vowed never to come back after their falling out,” she says, walking away.

Falling out? I start to wonder to myself, who exactly this man is and how did I fall into his inner circle so fast?

When my eggs come to the table, my curiosity is sparked. I look up at the waitress and ask, “What do you mean by falling out?”

She chuckles and shakes her head. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

The door swings open and he’s walks in. “Mary, are you spewing lies about me again?” He nods in my direction. “Hey, Emma.”

“Hey,” I whisper.

“Didn’t expect to find you in here,” he says. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave you alone. I’m not following you or nothing.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. Is a member of a gang? Is he in the mob? Just who is this man?

He sits in a booth opposite of mine, but we’re within eye contact of each other. It’s hard not to look up. “So, I feel a little better now,” he says. “Sorry about all that. Had a bit of a rough night.”

“It was scary at first,” I tell him. “It’s kinda funny now, I guess.”

“Figure out your transient problem?” he asks, changing the subject. But before I can answer, he turns to Mary, the waitress. “Yeah, I’ll take a steak and eggs. Coffee too.”

“No,” I say. “To be honest, I’m not really sure there’s anything to figure out. The publishing company gave me a house in a bad area is all.”

“First of all, I resent that. It’s a beautiful area. Plenty of nature to keep you occupied,” he says. “Second, what publishing company. You an author or something?”

“I didn’t mean any offense. I just mean that it’s a bit out of the way,” I say. “I’d like to be an author someday, but I’m not very good at writing stories. For now, I just edit them.”

“Who said you were bad at writing?” he asks me. “I bet you’re as good as the rest of them. Who’s your favorite author?”

“Is that a compliment?” I laugh.

“Take it however you like, sweetie-pie,” he says, winking.

“Lots of questions. Um, I really like Gwen Talbathon, but I doubt you’ve heard of her. No one has heard of her.”

“Never heard of her,” he says. “So, you going to keep me over at this table forever, or are you going to invite me over?”

“Does this count as our dinner?” I ask him, feeling my heart beat a little bit faster.

He checks his watch and squints his eyes. “Well, it looks like it’s only one pm. Not exactly dinner, but it works, I suppose.”

He slides over the table and sits in my booth. He sits right next to me, rather than in front of me. I immediately feel awkward, but it’s also kind of exciting to feel like I’m breaking the rules, even if it is my own made-up rules. Rule one: never sit next to a stranger, no matter how hot he is.

He puts his hand on my thigh and squeezes. “Thanks,” he says. “I could use some company.” Rule two: never let that hot stranger grope your thigh. And what’s rule three? Don’t let yourself get too wet that you soak your panties. Well, I think I’ve broken all my rules.

“No problem,” I mutter. “I guess I could use some company too. I don’t really know anyone out here.”

“It’s an easy-going place,” he nods. “Beautiful too. The people are friendly. I honestly don’t know why I ever left here.”

“Where’d you go to?” I ask him.

“Buffalo. It was a big change of pace, but I fell into good things there,” he says. “At least, I did for a while.”

“What happened that brought you back here?” I ask him, glancing down at his body. His undershirt clings to his tight muscles. He sits with a calm demeanor, but it’s like he’s made out of hard stone.

“Let’s change the subject,” he says. “We don’t need to talk about the past.”

“Okay,” I mutter. Weird.

I guess I should have known that there’s some baggage attached to this guy. Looking at him, it was obvious enough. I should be wary, but at this point, I feel comfortable talking to him. Not to mention, I’m starting to imagine what this guy is really like. Has he been with many women? Probably. Guys like him are always with women. What does he fuck like? Hard? Deep? Does he wrap his hands around a woman’s neck and show her who’s boss?

Okay, I need to chill. I need to just take a few deep breaths and think about nice things, like going back home and visiting my mom, or starting my new job. Unfortunately, the truth is, I haven’t gotten laid in at least a year. With finishing school and graduation, alongside getting this job in order, I haven’t had any time to talk to guys. Nor did I want to.

Did I think about it? Fuck yes, I did. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I like a good fuck. So what? In between the studying sessions, I imagined my professors trying to bribe a good grade for me, as long as I complied with their orders. I don’t know, it’s a bit cliché, but in the darkened library, I couldn’t help but sneak into the bathroom and touch myself.

A year before that found me in one of the longest relationships I’ve ever been in. Two years. That’s two years of getting laid, and feeling intense love. That is, until that all fizzled out. That was followed by what I call my “great depression.” It’s not something I ever want to relive again, which is sort of the reason why I keep my distance from guys in the first place.

Now I’m here. Denver, Colorado. And I don’t know anyone. What am I going to do? Not talk to this guy? When he sits next to me, I feel a great fear, as well as a great ease. It’s in this juxtaposition that I can really be myself. I can be testy, cute, and I can walk away at any time. At least, that’s how it feels to me.

Mary comes back with the coffee we ordered and I drink it eagerly. I don’t know, maybe it’s something in the grounds. Or maybe it’s that I’m truly starting to experience and demand things out of life. But I’m starting to feel like I can do anything. Soren has really brought the danger out in me, I guess.

“Why’re you shaking your head?” he laughs a little. “What are you thinking about?”

“Do you really think I’m a hot piece of ass?” I laugh and shake my head.

“What’re you talking about, woman?” he eyes me carefully.

“Earlier,” I say. “You called me a hot piece of ass. Do you really think that about me?”

“I think a lot of things about a lot of people,” he says.

“Yeah, okay. But you’re avoiding the question,” I say. I scoot my back against the wall on the side of me, and feel my butt press against the booth seat. He doesn’t waste time in looking.

“You don’t tell the truth much. Do you?” I ask him.

He scoffs at me and take a sip of his coffee. “Fine. You want to hear it?” he asks. I nod with a big smile on my face. “You’re a hot piece of ass and I kind of like your green eyes, but that doesn’t mean you ain’t a total…” he stops himself and shakes his head.

“Come on,” I urge him. “Go on. Finish that sentence.”

“I’m good,” he says, cooling off. This guy is harmless, I reason. He’s a prick, but I can be just as feisty. Talking to him is probably the most interesting thing I’ve done in years.

Mary comes by with our food and I dig in like a wild animal. It’s totally off putting to watch, I’m sure, as Soren is just staring at me, watching.

“Bitch,” I say with my mouth full of food.

“Did you just call me a bitch?” he asks me, looking offended.

I nod my head. “Maybe I did,” I giggle. “I mean, it’s what you think of me, right?”

“I never said that,” he says, turning back to his food.

“I can only imagine the things you think about,” I say, squinting my eyes. How far can this conversation go? Do I really want to open up this box?

“The mind is a complex thing,” he says.

I go on. “All the things that piss you off about me… I’m from the city. I still get help from my mom. I’m pretty.” I say the word pretty slowly and the “P” pops against my lips.

He stands up and smiles. “It’s been a nice brunch,” he says, “but I gotta get out of here and get some shit done. I’ll be seeing you around.” He throws a twenty down on the table.

“Seriously?” I ask, surprised by his leave. “I’m sorry I said anything, okay?” I was just having a little fun. Deep down, I kind of wanted to see what might happen, but I’m glad it didn’t go too far. Sometimes I act impulsivly and I regret the things I do in those moments. This is definitely one of those times.

“Goodbye, Emma,” he says, walking away. But as soon as he gets to the door, he turns and marches right back up to my table.

“Just so you know,” he says. “If I had the chance, I’d leave you soaking wet on your kitchen counter. I’d tear your ass apart. By the time I was done with you, you’d be twitching and begging for more.”

With that statement, he walks out of the diner. My face is hot and clammy. I look down and the front of my jeans are wet. Fuck me.