15 - My Personal Stalkers #2
“He also slept with me for a dare,” I swiftly remind her. “Besides, how can you say that? You two obviously never worked out?”
She blinks twice, a sad smile creeping onto her lips.
“No, we didn’t,” she agrees. “He went through some pretty traumatic stuff. It wasn’t his fault.
We were young, and he was angry. He didn’t know where to project it.
” The melancholic look in her eyes tells me it’s difficult for her to recall the memories, but she paints on another pretty smile and adds.
“I’m not saying he doesn’t have flaws. He has plenty.
But everything happens for a reason, y’know?
What we went through made us stronger as individuals.
There’s nothing romantic between us now, but we’re still best friends. ”
My heart does a little flip. Hearing her declaration makes it happy. I give her a genuine smile. Which is not bestowed upon many of my acquaintances.
The waitress brings our food. Casey tucks into her steak, and I pluck a chip from the deep dish, popping it in my mouth. The salty potato melts on my tongue, audibly satisfying my tastebuds.
The shrill ring of the bell above the door grabs my attention. When I spot Clarke and Ezio handing their coats to the doorman, I seriously consider ducking under the table.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter under my breath. Hands sweeping under the table, my thumb and forefinger join like two opposing magnets.
“Hmm?” Casey inquires, having just shovelled a forkful of food into her mouth. She peers over my shoulder, struggling to hide the smile forming on her lips when she realises who is gracing us with their unwanted presence.
“Fancy seeing you two here. Mind if we join you?”
The boys pull up two chairs, placing them on either side of us. The table isn’t designed to accommodate more than two diners, so we’re going to be crammed in like sardines. Fun.
“Yes.”
They, of course, ignore my snide comment and settle down, making themselves comfortable.
“What were you ladies chatting about?” Ezio says conversationally.
“Christ! It’s so hot in here,” he adds, unbuttoning the top button of his Boss shirt.
I don’t miss the jealous stares targeted our way.
I’m not blind; I know all three of them are annoyingly handsome, like the gods themselves have carved them.
But I also know that beneath those men are terrifying monsters only found in your worst nightmares.
“How much of a prick men are,” I reply smarmily, side-eyeing Clarke. “Want to join in?”
“Oh, yeah, we are. Absolute cunts.”
Both Casey and I nearly choke on our drinks.
“One hundred percent,” Ezio nods with a snicker.
I huff out a breath, levelling my gaze with Clarke. His eyes are practically black, so damn intense.
“Are you stalking me?”
“Cordelia. I told you I was stalking you,” he laughs lightly, shaking his head. “How much blunter do you want me to be?”
I drag my eyes away. His teasing smile pisses me off. The same server sashays over to take the new order. She’s more perky and animated in the guys’ presence.
“Ragu alla bolognese, per favore.”
Of course, the Italian guy orders pasta.
“Chicken salad,” Clarke says. “In fact, make that two.”
That surprises me. Thought he’d be a steak kind of guy. And why’s he want to double the amount? I get they need to pack the protein in, but really?
“Salad?” Casey puts the question out there, reading my mind.
“Don’t get this body eating pizza,” he replies, glancing across the table at his friend.
“I naturally have this body,” Ezio fires back with a wide smile that lights up his face.
Eurgh. Men and their bravado.
“Where’s the third member of your boy band?” I enquire because the silence is too loud.
Clarke’s eyes snap to mine. “Your boyfriend is getting hot and sweaty in the gym,” he chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Seriously, why is everyone doing that lately?
“He is not my boyfriend,” I grumble. It’s true. As far as I’m aware, Logan hasn’t asked me out or declared his undying love to me. He just taunts and teases me, even without being here in person it seems.
The food arrives promptly. A steaming plate of pasta lands on Ezio’s placemat and a bowl of leafy greens in front of Clarke. The waitress hovers with the third dish, pursing her lips.
“And this one?”
Clarke aims a finger in my direction, and before I can get a word of protest in, the bowl is placed under my nose. I stare at the fresh leaves and piping chunks of meat. It looks delicious, I have to say.
“I’m vegan, dickhead,” I deadpan.
Ezio snorts while slurping his spaghetti. Clarke puts his fork down carefully next to his bowl and clears his throat.
“No, you’re not.” He replies, voice low. “You ate meat at the gallery opening.”
“You are way too observant of other people’s shit, Clarke,” Casey says, downing the last drops of her Cosmo.
That is creepily observant.
“Eat up, Cordelia,” Clarke gestures to the food with that goddamn smirk.
I prepare to launch a sufficient insult back at him and refuse his unwelcome charity.
But through the large front window, a lady hugs a tiny baby to her chest. The adoration as she looks down over the little bundle nestled in her arms stirs something deep inside of me and pulls my mind from the restaurant.
A couple of steps behind her, a little girl with blonde pigtails walks beside a gentleman in a cap, giggling and grinning from ear to ear.
You can tell they’re together even before the female turns to beckon the pair over.
The man lifts the girl onto his shoulders with ease and careens towards the woman pretending to be an aeroplane.
They all laugh so loudly that the muffled sound travels through the glass.
He swoops in to kiss his partner on the lips and then the little girl plants a sloppy one on her cheek too.
I can’t help wondering if Logan would be that father figure.
I’ve never seen him interact with children.
Would he show everlasting love and support?
Would he be by my side every step of the way, or would his…
lifestyle tear him away? Would it put our lives in danger?
I want what they have more than anything.
I want to be that lady, with a devoted husband and unconditional love for her family.
I don’t have the luxury of many sweet memories from my childhood.
Papa was and still is married to his career; his work often pulling him from one country to the next.
And Mama, she was there; but not really there.
She always had an excuse to duck out of the parent’s evenings and nativity plays.
My childhood wasn’t bad by any stretch. But having two parents who were both distant, despite one living in the same house, was difficult.
That’s the moment, I’m sure. Without a doubt, I’m keeping this baby in my tummy. I will shower them with love every single day, making sure they know how much they’re cherished and adored. Whether that be with Logan’s involvement or not. I would love them enough for both of us.
I wouldn’t become like Mama and Papa. I would—
“Your dinner’s getting cold, Cordelia.”
My eyes slide to meet Clarke’s, ripping me from the heartfelt moment.
He’s smiling, but it’s smug and has a hidden warning behind it.
He’s giving me the chance to argue, to refuse his offering.
That’s the reaction he’s counting on, but I won’t give him the satisfaction.
Instead, I snatch the fork off the table, stab a chunk of chicken - imagining it’s his goddamn heart - and shove it in my mouth.