“Sweet potato fries,” I said, still unsure.
He smiled. “Trust me.” His cell phone vibrated, and he flipped it open. It was more than a text message this time; he masked an irritated look and pressed it to his ear.
“Ryel,” he answered.
Righ-el? I was fairly sure that was his last name, but I couldn’t be certain. He lowered his voice and tilted his head away from me. He was unhappy with the caller, but it was only the tone I could understand; he was speaking what I guessed to be Russian. He was devastatingly handsome, kind, and spoke a second language. If the sweet potato fries turned out to be all that he’d promised, I might have fallen out of my chair.
He became impatient with the person on the other end of the line and hung up the phone.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
I shook my head, fielding his apology. “No, it’s fine. I just inadvertently learned two new things about you.”
His eyes were still focused on mine, but they were a bit fogged over as if his attention was divided between me and the problem with the caller.
“Ryel?” I asked.
“My last name.”
“And was that….Russian you were speaking?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Yes,” he sighed. His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled. “Doesn’t everyone speak a second language these days?”
“You only speak two?” I said, feigning dissatisfaction.
He laughed, and a new twinge formed in my chest. I couldn’t get over his smile and how remarkable it was, as if he had come straight out of a magazine.
“I took French in high school. It didn’t stick,” I said, feeling inferior.
“My dad spoke fluently. I learned from him.”
“Oh, your family is from Russia?”
“Er…no,” Jared said, looking uncomfortable with the question.
“It was beautiful,” I said. “You’re very popular. Business must be fantastic.”
His eyes tightened as he studied my face. “Business is…,” his eyes softened and he leaned in a bit towards me, meeting my gaze, “better than it’s been in a long time.”
I forced myself to breathe. It felt unnatural when he looked at me like that. “So you enjoy what you do?”
“Some days more than others,” he shrugged.
“And today?”
He smiled again. Something was amusing him about our conversation, and I wasn’t in on the joke. “Today’s a good day.”
My attention was diverted to the waitress walking up behind him, bringing our sweet potato fries and salads. Jared looked down at the table and then to me with a calculating grin.
“Feeling brave?”
I leaned over to get a better look inside the woven bowl. “You’re making me awfully nervous over a basket of fries. These should be some earth shattering potatoes.”
“Truly, potatoes that deserve an introduction.” We both laughed. He picked up a few and dipped them in a cup of strange looking goo.
“No ketchup?” I asked, eyeing the misshapen spear in my hand.
Jared wrinkled his nose. “Ketchup is for those who don’t want to taste their food.”
“Ketchup is for suckers.” I concentrated on the basket, my eyebrows pressed together.
Laughter erupted from his throat, and I plunged my fry into the sauce. He took a bite and watched me raise my hand to my mouth. His expression grew playfully anxious as I chewed.
“Not…bad. Pretty good, actually,” I said, nodding as I swallowed.
His face was triumphant. We joked and laughed as we eliminated the remaining fries, and politely discussed the weather through our salads. After we finished our entrees, he eyed my empty plate and nodded his head in satisfaction.
“I like a girl with an appetite.”
“I have a feeling we’ll be good friends, then,” I laughed. “That’s the first non-Ratty meal I’ve eaten since I’ve been back to school. Thanks for bringing me here.”
Jared beamed. “It was absolutely my pleasure. I’m glad we ran into each other.”
The waitress brought the ticket and Jared scooped it up, placed his card in the pouch and handed it back to her. He looked as if he’d just won the lottery. I couldn’t believe that my enjoyment of some alternately flavored french fries had made him so cheerful.
He helped me with my coat. I wasn’t the type of girl to enjoy gallantry, but the casual way he went about it made me a tad giddy. I picked up my Urban Outfitters bag, and he followed me outside.
“You walked?” Jared asked.
“I walked.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and waited for him to be chivalrous again.
“It’s getting colder. Do you mind if I drive you?” he asked, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets.
The grin that swept across my face was uncontainable. “Do you remember where I live?”
“Andrews, right?” he said. I nodded, and he seemed pleased that he could give me the correct answer. “I’m this way,” he said, directing me down the street.
Jared parked beside the curb next to my dorm, and I subliminally willed him to ask for my number, for another date, anything. I didn’t want to have to wait so long this time before I saw him again.
“Thanks again,” I said, stalling.
He smiled, but it wasn’t as broad as it was during lunch. He seemed to be as disappointed as I was that our brief encounter was over.
“You’re welcome. Truly, the pleasure was mine.”
He stepped out and less than a second later, opened my door. I stood to face him and after a small pause, began making the walk to my dorm. A sense of urgency overcame my nervousness and I turned on my heels.
He hadn’t moved. Standing in front of his black Escalade, he looked exactly like a security guard. The glass was blacked out, and it looked more like a scene in the Middle East than on a quiet Providence street.
“Jared?” I pulled my cell phone from my purse to ask for his number, but the words left me. I gulped as his eyes pierced through mine. I didn’t know if the attraction was mutual, but on my end at least, it was intense.
“We’ll run into each other again,” he said, grinning. I started to argue, but what could I say? If I wondered aloud how soon that would be, I would sound more desperate than I wanted.
“It was good to see you again, Nina,” he said, before disappearing behind the dark tint of his windows.
I smiled and waved, then continued my trek to Andrews.
Chapter Two
Invitation(s)
“It’s raining again,” Kim grumbled. “That’s something new and different.” She lit her cigarette and jostled her knees back and forth to ward off the cold. I gave her a disapproving look. “What?” she asked.
“That’s really disgusting. My father smoked cigars. I just don’t get the appeal.”
She shrugged. “There is no appeal. I’m a non-conformist.”
“You’re a masochist,” I said, rolling my eyes.
We waited outside for Beth to finish her class, planning to kidnap her to the nearest coffee shop off campus. A group of students emerged in mass exodus, and I scanned each face. I noticed a shaggy-haired boy break away from the river of students and smile at Kim.
“Hey, Josh,” Kim said.
“Hey, Kimmie. Did you get the calculus homework finished?”
Kim shrugged. “I’ll do it before class.”
Josh’s friends meandered closer to us and talked among themselves.
