Chapter 10 Margeaux
MARGEAUX
I don’t want to tell Jon that he hit the nail on the head by treating me to these fries, but holy fucking shit. These are legit, the best fries I’ve ever had.
“They’re good, right?” Jon asks, as I stuff another fry into my drooling mouth.
“Pftt. They’re okay,” I say while swatting his hand away so I can take another couple of fries.
He laughs and pushes the to-go container closer to me.
“I knew I was right to order two servings. They’re so addicting,” he says, picking up the second container of fries he ordered.
“This is the best food truck in the city. The owner, Shaw, used to be a big-time chef at Michelin star restaurants. Then they moved here and started a food truck,” he says.
I keep munching, doing my best not to make a mess in front of him.
I shouldn’t care what he thinks about me.
The guy has a fucking girlfriend. The most annoying, jealous, and snobby girlfriend ever.
And yet, he’s here with me. I shouldn’t let that fact go to my head.
One hot makeout session doesn’t mean anything.
I was impulsive, and felt like being a little reckless.
“Well, these fries are officially my favorite.” These fries are a work of art.
They’re hand cut and perfectly golden, with the perfect crunch when you bite into them.
The chef, Shaw, tosses them in some kind of blend of seasoning that has my taste buds dancing.
I can’t even identify what all the flavors are.
On the menu the fries are called “the world’s best fries.
” Guess Shaw knew what they were doing when they came up with this recipe.
“Yea, this food truck is my favorite place to eat in the whole city,” Jon says, licking his fingers to get every speck of flavor these fries have to offer. All I can focus on are his full lips, and how they suck around his fingers. Mnnh. I’ve had those lips on mine. I wonder what else they can do.
“Wait. Your favorite place to eat in this five-star city, with some of the best restaurants in the country, is a food truck named Side Chick?” I ask, licking my thumb.
Jon licks his lips as I pop my thumb free. There’s so much lip smacking, finger licking, and tongue flicking going on, and it’s all because of these fucking fries. I never would have thought fries would be an aphrodisiac, but here we are.
“Good food is good food. Shaw knows what they’re doing. Besides, fine dining isn’t my scene. I’ll take a snazzy food truck food, from to-go containers on a park bench, over stuffed salmon filets, on a white tableclothed, dimly lit table, any day. I’m a simple guy,” Jon says, slurping up his drink.
“A simple guy? Yet you’re dating the most uptight, hard-to-please woman I’ve ever met,” I scoff, which makes him spit out his drink and cough up whatever he half-swallowed.
“What?” he asks between coughs.
“Oh please. You may have been a simple guy, Doc. But you’re no different than the rest of the people in this city.
You’re climbing that social ladder, and you hitched your ride to a woman who is all-too happy to be a doctor’s wife, have your doctor babies, and tell everyone about your doctor life.
Admit it,” I bark, feeling so flustered with this whole situation.
I don’t know why I’m suddenly so annoyed with him. I see him ignoring his phone, which is most likely his clingy girlfriend checking in with him. Why is he here with me when he has the perfect life texting him?
“What are you saying, Margeaux?” he grunts quietly, hoping I get his signal to lower my voice.
“Why the fuck are we eating French fries right now?” I shout, not giving a fuck how loud I am. I’m so confused by this guy. I want to slap him and kiss him at the same time.
“Shit. Will you lower your voice?!” he whisper-yells. He grabs my hand and leads me further down the street. I look back at our uneaten fries and feel a sense of loss for those perfectly crunchy treats.
Jon leads me down a quiet street, lined with more fucking apple trees. Who’s in charge of picking these, anyway? He walks up to a building and punches in a code into a keypad on the front door. The door buzzes and he pushes it open.
“Jon, where are we?” I ask, yanking my hand free from his, missing the feel of his smooth hands against my blistered and calloused ones.
“Just follow me, okay? Please?” he pleads, leading me to a staircase and we both stomp up to the third floor. I saw an elevator, and I respect his choice to take the stairs. Especially since it gave me a chance to check out his ass the entire walk up. Fuck, I’m such a creep.
We’re at his apartment. He takes me inside and locks the door. I stand in the middle of his sparsely decorated living room and throw my hands out to the side.
“Well?!” I don’t give a fuck about being quiet now.
“I don’t know why I’m eating fries with you. I don’t know why I want to do anything with you. I have a girlfriend,” he says, pacing by his front door and running his hands through his wavy hair. He doesn’t need to remind me. Maybe he’s reminding himself.
“So what? You just wanted to hook up with me to feel like you did something wild—no pun intended—before you’re tethered to your future Stepford wife,” I say with disgust.
I don’t know why the idea of him with that size zero ditz angers me so much.
Jon seems like too good of a guy for her.
He’s a genuinely sweet guy, and a girl like that will just ruin him.
It’s not like I’d be any better. I’m a walking wrecking ball.
But, I think the way I’d ruin him would be better. Definitely more fun.
“No. I didn’t kiss you just to get something out of my system. I wasn’t thinking,” he says in a rushed pace.
“Why not!?”
“Cause I don’t think when I’m around you! All my ability to use logic and make smart decisions vanishes when you’re in the vicinity. You distract me and make me impulsive. It’s not how I want to be, at all,” he shouts, stepping closer to me. “It’s not how I am.”
“Well, fuck you, Doc. I’m not making you do anything. Don’t blame this shit on me. If you want me, that’s a you issue. I don’t have to put up with this drama. I have enough of it, as you have so kindly pointed out earlier,” I screech, shouldering past him to let myself out.
I’m so over this whole ordeal. I’m the reason Zoey’s bachelorette party was ruined, and my relationship with Jacky is strained.
I supposedly beat up a snobby rich dude, and my wrestling career is hanging in the balance.
And now, I’m to blame because the good doctor can’t control himself around me.
Holy fuck. I’m so out of here. I fumble to unlock Jon’s front door, and he comes up behind me, caging me in from behind, his arms on either side of my body, his breath hitting between my shoulder blades.
My upper body sags slightly as his lips almost touch my skin.
For a shorter guy, he can be powerful when he’s riled up.
I refuse to let this moment decompose into another bad decision that I’m ultimately blamed for. If he doesn’t have any common sense to stop himself, then it’s up to me to be the strong one. Look at me maturing. I turn the lock, the click of it unlocking snaps him out of his stupor.
“Don’t leave yet, Margeaux. I don’t know why I want you to stay, but just stay,” he whispers into the fabric of my shirt, and I wish I wore a different top so I could feel his lips moving against my bare skin.
I drop my hands from the doorknob, ready to be stupid with Jon, again. A short buzz pulses against the back of my leg. And then again. It’s his phone.
Jon sighs, reaching into his pocket and then he answers his phone. “Nicolette. Hi…babe.”
Oh. Hell. Fucking. No.
“Yea. Dr. Nash let me leave early today.”
He starts peeling himself away from me, and I regain whatever common sense I was losing from his body touching mine.
“No. No. Not tonight. I’m exhausted,” he rushes out as he steps away from me. “Yea. Of course I’m excited to see the condos.” More silence, while her voice squeaks through the phone. “Yea, babe. I’ll see you tomorrow…I love you, too.”
Yup, that’s my exit cue. I slam the door shut behind me, and race back to my hotel. I make it to the hotel in record time, and before I can push the button on the elevator, the front desk clerk calls out to me.
“Miss! A delivery was left for you while you were out,” the young man says. He bends down and picks up a sealed manilla envelope.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it from him and looking for a mailing address, wondering if it’s from Ashleigh, or something. All it says is my name on the front of the envelope.
The elevator opens and I step in and push the button for the fifth floor where my room is.
I rip open the envelope and a second envelope falls to my feet.
Black, with silver studs around the perimeter.
My hands shake as I pick it up off the floor.
I look around the elevator, feeling like someone else is here with me.
The elevator dings, but the sound is so distant.
I stay frozen in the middle of the elevator as I read the note inside, which is accompanied by a newspaper clipping about the bar fight I was in.
Naughty Girl.
Starting fights. Hurting more people.
You need to be taught a lesson.
And I’m the perfect one for the job.
Yours.
The elevator doors open again, showing me the lobby of the hotel. An older couple walks in and ignores me, standing along the opposite side of the elevator. I shove the note back into the envelope and as soon as the elevator doors open to my floor, I sprint to my room and lock the door.