On the Outside Looking In (Wrong Reasons) (4 page)

I pulled my laptop out of my bag and settled in the chair by the window.  As it booted up, I let my mind wander back to Evan.  Why did he want to hang out with me?  I had no idea.

“Maybe I should go out with him once and find out why,” I mused, my eyes blurring as I stared at a point above the television. 
“Maybe once he goes out with me, he’ll lose interest and leave me alone.”

But did I want him to leave me alone?  Was I enjoying the attention of a very attractive man?

“No,” I said, shaking my head.  “I’m not like that.”

But my mind rebelled at the idea.  What girl didn’t like a little attention from a man – even girls like me?

I returned my gaze to the computer, logging into my favorite web browser.  But before I started, I grabbed my phone and dialed the newest number.

“Yeah, who is this?” he growled.

“Morgan,” I said.  “Tomorrow night, pizza at Mario’s.  Seven-thirty.  I’ll meet you there.”

There was a definite grin in his voice. 
“Gotcha, sweet thing.  I’ll see you there.”

I ended the call, grinning myself, and submerged into the world of Art History.

Chapter Four

My Art History exam went better than I expected, even though I’d struggled to study the night before.  When my classes were finished for the day, I hurried home to prepare for my short shift at Beans.

The entire time I waited on customers and struggled to make complicated coffee orders, my insides squirmed in anticipation of my upcoming ‘date.’  I wasn’t sure what to expect – romance or friendship?  Or maybe Evan was just lonely.  The only people I’d ever heard him talk about were Manda and Rusty.  Maybe they were his only friends.

My shift ended at seven and I rushed upstairs to get ready.  After an amazingly quick shower, I dressed in skinny jeans, a long green sweater, and my favorite fall boots.  My hair was still damp but I didn’t have time to dry it, so I stuck in a headband, applied a touch of makeup, and left.

Mario’s was on the other side of campus, far enough away to deter coeds on foot, so I figured we’d be safe from prying eyes.  I didn’t want my social life to be a source for gossip on a small campus.

I arrived about five minutes late and struggled in the dark restaurant to locate Evan - I wasn’t sure if he was the punctual type.

“You’re late.”

Startled, I jumped and turned around to find Evan seated in the waiting area, toying with his cell phone.

“Only five minutes,” I said, crossing my arms.  “Sorry.”

“No worries,” he said, standing up with a wide smile.  “Come on.  We have a table waiting.”

I didn’t ask how he’d arranged that since a sign stated that customers must wait to be seated.

I followed him through the dimly lit restaurant to a table in the back next to a huge fireplace taking up half of the back wall.  Flames crackled merrily while other diners laughed and conversed all around.  Although it seemed rather fancy and pricey, Mario’s really wasn’t.  Antoine, the owner, once said in an interview for the college newspaper that he wanted to create a casual, affordable restaurant complete with ambiance.  He felt that college students deserved a nice place to go without exorbitant prices.

“Here we are,” Evan said, holding a chair for me.

I sat, smiling my thanks, and waited for him to settle in across from me before picking up my menu.

“Have you eaten here before?” he asked.

I nodded. “I used to come here from time to time with Irelyn and Bailey.”

A waitress appeared to take our drink orders. 

“Diet soda,” I said, ignoring the amused look on Evan’s face.

“Beer,” he said, his eyes on me.  “Whatever’s on tap is fine.”

He waited until the waitress walked away before leaning across the table.  “Diet soda? 
Really?”

“I don’t like regular soda.  It’s too sweet.”

“No wine?”

I shook my head.  “I won’t be twenty-one until March.”

“So?” he asked.  “Doesn’t stop you from drinking at Rusty’s.”

“I don’t drink a whole lot at Rusty’s,” I said.  “And should you be promoting underage drinking?  Don’t you have a bartender’s license?”

“Yes, I have a license,” he said, leaning back when the waitress returned with our drinks.  “And I’m not promoting underage drinking. I was just asking if you’d prefer wine.”

The waitress eyed us both as she set a straw beside my glass.  Evan whipped out his wallet and flashed his ID at the waitress, making her blush.  She hurried away to check on her other tables.

“So, what sounds good to you?” he asked, lifting his menu.  “Pasta?  Chicken?  Or do you just want pizza?”

“Pizza is fine,” I said.  “I don’t care what you get on it, either, as long as you don’t get mushrooms or anchovies.”

“Damn,” he said, setting down his menu.  “My two favorites.”

“Fine,” I sighed.  “Then get that on half.”

“I’m kidding,” he laughed.  “Lighten up.  I’m allergic to mushrooms – I can’t eat them.”

“Oh,” I
said, a little heat in my cheeks.  “Fine.  Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

The waitress returned to take our order and remove our menus.  Evan helped himself to a breadstick from the glass container in the middle of the table.  “These are great.”

“Yes, they are,” I said, sticking my straw in my soda.  “So, tell me, why are you so keen about hanging out with me?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Groaning, I sipped my soda.  “Are you always this elusive or do you give straight answers from time to time?”

“You’re funny,” he said with a crooked grin, his eyes shimmering from the flames in the fireplace.  “Okay, here’s your straight answer.  I like you.”

“You like me?” I asked.  “But, you hardly know me.”

He lifted a shoulder as he sipped his beer.  “That’s why we’re hanging out – so we can get to know each other better.”

I didn’t know what to say to that so I grabbed a breadstick and nibbled on the end.

“I’ve been in Beans several times when you were working and I thought you were cute.  I decided to start chatting with you, hoping to win you over with my charm.”

I inhaled a few crumbs which set me off in a slight coughing fit.  Evan reached across the table to scoot my soda within my reach.

“Take a drink.”

I did as he said until I felt as if I could speak normally.

“Charm?” I managed to utter.

“Yep, charm.”

I managed to not roll my eyes.

“You don’t think I’m charming?” he asked, clearly amused.

“Let’s just say I’m reserving judgment,” I said.

“Fair enough,” he said, attempting to hide his smile with his beer.

Conversation stalled and I took that moment to study the others.  Several nearby tables were occupied by college-aged people; two couples sitting close, three tables with groups of friends. I wondered what I was doing there with Evan.

“So, Morgan,” Evan said, breaking the silence.  “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Grow up?” I asked.

He nodded.

Lifting my chin, I looked into his dark eyes.  “I’m in the Education Program.  Art.”

“Art teacher, huh?” he asked.  I nodded.  “Are you an artist?”

“I can draw,” I admitted.  “I’m not much of a painter, though.  My real passion is photography.”

“Really?” he asked.  “That’s cool.  I like taking pictures.  It’s fun.”

I couldn’t help but to smile.

“How did you get into photography?”

“My dad gave me a camera for my birthday when I was eight,” I explained.  “I took pictures of everything – flowers, animals, people.  It just grew from there.”

“I want to see some of your work,” he said.

“I don’t know,” I said. 

“Come on,” he said as the waitress returned with our pizza.  She set it in the middle of the table and offered to serve our first piece but Evan declined.  When she walked away, he picked up my plate, shoveled a slice on it, and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I said, placing a napkin on my lap.

“Sure,” he said as he placed a slice on his own plate.  “Now, why won’t you show me your stuff?”

“I don’t know,” I said, as I squirmed in my seat.  “I don’t really show people.”

“Have you taken classes?” he asked.  I nodded.  “You’ve shown your teacher.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?  I had to show her.”

“So, pretend I’m a teacher,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a maddening grin on his face.

“I hardly know you,” I said.  “I’ve only shown a few things to my friends and I’ve known them a lot longer.  Why would I show you?”

“Suit
yourself,” he said, cramming half a slice into his mouth.  I tried not to watch as he chewed. “I’ll just have to hang around more – so you can get to know me.”

“Wonderful,” I groaned.

“Don’t be like that,” he said.  “Most chicks are thrilled to hang out with me.  Hell, they’d give their right arm for the chance.”

“You think right highly of yourself, don’t you?”

His grin widened.  “It’s the truth.  Ask around campus.  I bet I’ve dated some of your classmates.”

“I really don’t care to ask anyone,” I said.

“Whatever, sweetness,” he said.

“So,” I said, nibbling on my slice.  “You’re a self-proclaimed ladies man.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, helping himself to another slice.  “I just like to date.  It’s fun, you know, hanging out with chicks, getting to know them.  I love women.”

“I get it,” I said, slightly perturbed.  “You’d like for me to be one of your…’chicks,’ right?”

He flashed a toothy smile.  “Not at all.  You said you weren’t in a dating place.  I like you, though, so I figured if you aren’t in a dating place, maybe you’re in a friend place.  We can do that, right? Be friends?”

“I have enough friends.”

“Sure you do,” he said.  “You hang out with Bailey and Irelyn, no one else.  But Bailey and Irelyn are both in committed relationships so you only get to see them when they’re not with their boyfriends.  You can hang out with them when they are with their boyfriends but it makes you feel like a third wheel.”

My blood ran cold as I dropped the crust to my plate.  “You don’t know how I feel.”

He shrugged, cramming as much pizza into his mouth as possible.  He wiped his lips as he chewed, his eyes on me.  Swallowing, he took a drink and then lifted a brow.  “It was just a guess, that’s all.  I didn’t mean to strike a nerve or anything.”

“You didn’t,” I said as I grabbed another piece.  Taking small bites, I chastised myself about rising to his bait.  I needed to take the sensitivity down a peg or two.  “I don’t have a lot of close friends, okay? 
Just Irelyn and Bailey.  I do, however, have friends at school – people that I eat lunch with, study with, work on projects.  I’m not some loner that you need to take pity on and shower with attention.”

“Is that what you think this is?” he asked, all amusement draining from his face.  He dropped the slice he was holding onto his plate as he tilted his head, brow furrowed, and studied my face.  “Do you think this is a … pity date?”

“Is it?”

“No,” he said with a scowl.  “Shit, Morgan, I’ve been telling you that I like you.  I don’t play games.  I’m not into lying or fooling around with someone’s feelings.  I’ve been honest with you from the start.”

A touch of shame floated in my heart as I ducked my head.  “Sorry.  I guess I’m a tad oversensitive about certain things.”

“No worries,” he said without a trace of humor.  He finished his beer and motioned for the waitress.  “Can I have a refill?”

“Sure,” she smiled and then turned to me.  “Another diet?”

“No, thank you,” I said.

Nodding at me, she glanced at Evan, a sly smile on her face, and then hurried away to get his beer.  No doubt she was wondering what he was doing with me.

“So, do you want to check out a movie tonight?” he asked.

“No,” I said slowly.  “I have an early class tomorrow.  But thank you.”

“Some other time,” he said, smiling his thanks when the waitress returned with his beer.

“Perhaps.”

He drained half the glass in one drink, set it on the table, and grinned as if he’d swiped the last cookie in the jar.  “I have your number.  I can be relentless.”

“And I can be stubborn.”

“Touché,” he
said, a glint in his eye.  “Hard to get.  I like that.”

Rolling my eyes, I sipped my soda.  “If you’re finished, I’m going to ask for the check.”

“Sure.”

I caught the waitress’s attention and she handed me the check.

“Um, no,” Evan said, snatching it from my hand.  “I’m paying.”

“I’ll pay half.”

“No you won’t,” he said.  “I invited you.”

“But this is not a date.”

“So says you,” he said as he dug out his wallet, counted out some bills, and placed them on top of the ticket.  “You can pay next time.”

I wanted to remind him that there might not be a ‘next time’ but didn’t want to get into that debate.  I just let him pay with a sigh and finished my soda.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, sweetness.”

“What’s with the nickname?”

“It’s cute – at least, that’s what all the chicks say.”

“Well, chicks might think it’s cute, but normal women don’t.”

“You say that now,” he said as he got up and instantly helped me put on my coat.  “But you’ll change your mind.”

I didn’t bother correcting him, even though I could never see myself as gushing over a pet name.

“Have a good night,” the waitress said as we walked past her on the way out.  Her eyes quickly raked Evan’s body, instantly sending an irritating jolt down my spine.  Couldn’t she see that I was with him?  Sure, it wasn’t a date, but she didn’t know that.

Evan wished her the same but I ignored her, in a hurry to get out the door and to my car.