Chapter 12 #2
Now all I need is for Chad to hurry and show up so I can have a fantastic time and prove to Jay that I’m not the loser he thinks I am.
“Clarissa?” An unfamiliar voice interrupts my internal musing. It’s not as deep as Jay’s, but it’s a guy’s, and he’s standing at my table. He looks me up and down and smiles. “Yes, you’re the hot girl from the party. I’m Chad.” He pulls out the chair in front of me and sits down.
Well, this is off to a brilliant start. “My name is Carina.”
Chad doesn’t look bothered by the correction. “Right, right. C names—Cara, Clarissa, Carina—all the same shit.”
I blink at him. “Yeah, except it’s not. Because my name’s Carina.
” Fantastic. Two seconds into this date and I’m already thinking about the bathroom window that doesn’t exist. There’s a door near our table with a sign that says emergency exit only, alarm will sound, and I contemplate using it as a last resort.
Those signs are fake anyway; the alarms never sound.
Chad looks exactly how I remember him from the party, except thankfully he left his sunglasses at home, revealing hazel eyes.
His brown hair is slicked back from his face, and he has a very square jaw and tan skin.
He’s conventionally good-looking, sure, but not if he was standing next to Emmett.
His smile’s all wrong, and the slope of his nose is nowhere near the cute shape of Emmett’s.
“Okay, Carina.” He says my name theatrically, like Carina isn’t actually my name. He opens the menu and scans it. “This place has the best food. And we got a great table. Perfect, actually.”
Jay walks by our table, and he makes direct eye contact with me as he passes. He looks pointedly at Chad before raising an eyebrow at me as if to say, Really? This guy? I ignore him.
“Yeah, everything smells delicious,” I tell Chad, plastering a smile on my face. He arrived almost half an hour late and doesn’t know my name, but I’m going to sit through this dinner and have a good time just to show Jay. Show him what? I haven’t figured that out yet.
“Order anything you want. It’s all on me,” Chad declares, a proud smile on his face.
“Oh, no. It’s all right, I can pay for myself—”
“I insist!” Chad interrupts, waving over a waitress. “You don’t need to pay for anything tonight.” It’s nice that he’s offering, but something tells me Chad’s the kind of guy who expects something in return for his offer, and he’ll be getting nothing from me today.
“Chad,” I start, “it’s all right—”
The waitress reaches our table, and Chad orders over my protests. “Hi. For appetizers, we’ll have the shrimp cocktail, the tuna tartare, and the calamari.”
What? I never agreed to any of that. “Actually, I don’t like fish.” I do, but it’s the principle of it now. He didn’t ask me my opinion on any of that, and he can’t possibly eat it all by himself, unless his mom shows up . . . I shudder.
Chad glances at me like he just noticed me sitting here. “Okay. Let’s add an order of fried cauliflower to that. And for our mains, we’ll have the Delphine special. Baked potato side for us both.”
I stare at him, stunned. When was I consulted about my meal?
He told me to order anything I want then proceeded to not let me order anything at all.
This is a lot of food, plus the Delphine special is a cut of steak that costs seventy-five dollars each before taxes.
Is he trying to flex his money or something? This is insane.
The waitress—Nina—smiles and asks him how he wants his steak cooked before they both turn to look at me for my answer. Yeah, now he lets me speak for myself.
“Um, medium,” I squeak, too stunned to say anything else. The waitress nods and takes our menus, leaving Chad and me alone.
I don’t appreciate being spoken for and not getting to choose what I eat, but Chad insisted on paying, so I guess I’ll just enjoy my fancy steak in peace without starting an argument.
“So,” I start, crossing my arms over my chest since Chad’s eyes keep wandering. “Kalani said you graduated high school. Are you in university now?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m too busy with my business. I’m making too much money to stop to go back to school. The point of going to school is to get a job to make money, and I’m already doing that, so why bother?”
I’ve hit a sore spot. “Oh, that’s cool. What is your business?”
He leans back, slinging an arm over the back of his chair. “I work in . . . I guess you can say pharmaceuticals.”
That’s vague. “Like, in a pharmacy?”
He laughs. “Oh, no. I’m my own boss. I don’t have a set workplace, I go where the people are.”
The pieces click together in my head. “So you’re a drug dealer?”
He sits up straight. “Don’t say that so loud! And I prefer to think of it as . . . relieving people of stress and enriching them with mind-altering experiences.”
Wow. Kalani seriously set me up with a drug dealer. What did they talk about at the party? The weather? I gasp internally. Was he at the party to sell drugs? Weed is legal here . . .
I can’t stop myself. “What do you sell?”
Chad shrugs. “Mostly Molly. Sometimes coke. You looking to buy?”
“No!” I yell, shrinking into myself when people from surrounding tables look at me. “No,” I repeat, this time at a normal volume and more confidently. I don’t dare check to see if Jay turned around at his table.
“All right, chill. You’re so uptight. Hot, but uptight.”
My nostrils flare. What is with people calling me uptight?
Kalani, Emi, and Jay all say I need to let loose and get out of my comfort zone, but if letting loose means doing cocaine with I-wear-my-sunglasses-at-a-party-and-order-for-my-date-even-though-I-told-her-to-get-whatever-she-wants Chad, then I want no part of it.
The emergency exit near our table is looking better and better by the second.
The appetizers arrive, and Chad digs in. The fish smells delicious, but I stubbornly told him I don’t like fish, so I have to pick at the stupid fried cauliflower. I don’t even like cauliflower.
“This is fantastic shrimp,” Chad says through a full mouth, his words muffled. He points at me with a dangling shrimp. “That cauliflower looks gross.”
Yes, what an encouraging thing to say to someone who’s eating the gross thing.
As far as dating a drug dealer who showed up late and ordered food for me goes, this isn’t the worst date I’ve been on.
That title goes to Arthur, then Jay, so I tell myself to stick it out without texting Emi our bail word or running through the emergency exit.
What does that say about me that a date with a self-employed drug dealer who doesn’t know my name and has minimal manners is an all right date?
I feel like laughing out loud, then maybe crying.
“So, you like art or something?” Chad says, not slowing down as he stuffs his face. He’s doing pretty good on his own, and I force myself not to drool over the calamari. Why did I have to say I don’t like fish?
“Yeah, I really enjoy painting,” I say suspiciously, since this is the first time he’s taking an interest in something other than my boobs. “There’s an exhibit open this week I wanted to go to, but it’s sold out, and today’s the last day.”
“Cool cool cool.” Chad wipes his mouth on the cloth napkin and throws it on the table. “I am stuffed. Are you going to leave that cauliflower there? You barely touched it, and it’s like twenty dollars for those four little pieces.”
My fingernails dig into my palms. “Well, if you had asked, I would’ve told you I’m not the biggest fan of cauliflower.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “But you can afford it, right? Good thing your business is doing so well.”
He nods vigorously, assuming his relaxed demeanor. “Oh yeah. This dinner isn’t even a fraction of what I spend in a day.” A waitress comes and clears our plates. My stomach protests when she takes away the half plate of calamari he left. But that’s the price of taking a stand, I guess.
Chad continues to tell me all about his expensive buying habits, and I consciously remind myself not to roll my eyes as he drones on and on about Jet Ski this and helicopter ride that, and it’s all I can do not to pull out my phone and read from the dictionary app, since that would be a hell of a lot more interesting than this.
But because every so often I can feel Jay’s eyes burning into my skull from across the room, I force a polite smile on my face and nod like I’m paying attention.
Every time I try to get a word in, Chad talks over me to brag about himself, so by the time the entrees arrive, I stop bothering.
My steak is fat and juicy and sizzling and looks like it’ll be worth every cent of the seventy-five dollars Chad is going to shell out for it.
After sitting through a good thirty minutes of him going on and on about his money, I decide to not worry about being polite and not offer to pay for my half when the bill comes. He insisted, after all.
We dig into our steaks, and for once I’m glad he doesn’t care to hear me talk, because I’m way too busy savoring this delicious meal. I was right; it is worth every cent of the extreme price, and I’m torn between wanting to stuff it down my throat or take my time and savor it.
A server holding a slice of cake with lit sparklers walks by us, and I track her all the way to Jay’s table, where she places it in front of a guy I’m assuming is Zach.
“You know that guy?” Chad asks, gesturing at Jay. “He looks over here every once in a while.”
I shake my head nonchalantly and cut into my steak. “Nope. Maybe he’s interested in you.”
Horror fills Chad’s face, and at that exact time, Jay looks over at our table. It’s too perfect, I have to shove a piece of steak in my mouth to stop from laughing out loud.
“He isn’t my type,” Chad says as if I needed clarification.
I resist a giggle. “Good to know.”