Oh boy.
I’m screwed even more if he ever finds out everything.
Because if he knows, I’ll never have a chance with him even if I wanted one.
Which I don’t, right?
Chapter Seven
Michail
I could stay here a bit longer, but I’m growing antsy. Ever since those people came in earlier, my curiosity has been eating away at me. Who is this Jacob person, and what’s bothering Trista? Obviously, something is going on and I need to know. I don’t understand the desire to have the answers when it comes to this, but something about Trista’s secretiveness doesn’t sit well with me. In fact, whenever anyone hides things, it only means they’re trouble. I don’t want to think the same about her, but I will until she proves to me otherwise.
I’ve finished my work for the day and decided to stay late and get a head start on tomorrow. It made more sense for me to stay here anyway until a bit before seven. My sister texted me and said she was having dinner with a friend, so I’d be on my own tonight anyway. Dema had come up to me not too long ago and said she had a reservation for her and Kronid at the fancy restaurant next to the café across the street, but how she wasn’t feeling up to going. Considering she’s only a couple months into her pregnancy, it makes sense. It takes ages to get in there, so she offered it to me. Figuring it’d be a while since I could get a good meal like this, I accepted her offer and she told me she’d hoped I would’ve and already changed the reservation to be in my name.
Standing, I straighten my tie and quietly say my goodbyes to the team of artists who’re working until close. I head across the street and go up to the hostess station, give her my name, and she takes me upstairs to a private table behind a curtain. Shit, Kronid must’ve been trying to take Dema on a nice date. I take my seat as the hostess tells me my waiter will be with me shortly, and sure enough, a young man, maybe in his twenties, comes up and takes my drink order. As always, I order a vodka and a water as well while I mull over the appetizer menu.
A few minutes pass by and footsteps growing closer cause me to look up, though the moment the curtain is pulled back, I see a very familiar face. One I didn’t intend on seeing—Trista’s.
The sudden grumble in my stomach instantly halts. “Trista. What’re you doing here?”
Trista looks around, obviously confused. “Is Dema here?”
“No. She and Kronid canceled their reservation tonight. They gave it to me. Did she not tell you?” The three of them must’ve been going to dinner. It would make sense considering Dema and Trista are very close friends.
Trista blinks at me for a moment before she scrunches up her nose in a displeased manner. “I can’t believe she did this,” she grumbles, her statement so low I almost didn’t hear it.
“And what is it she did?” I question. Crossing my arms, I lean back in my chair, staring the woman down, quickly realizing what, in fact, has happened.
Dema told her they’d meet up for dinner, and Dema told me she canceled a reservation . . . the woman set us up on a blind date. Trista doesn’t look amused in the least bit and the mere fact she’s gnawing on her bottom lip with her cheeks becoming a tinted red only causes me to break out into laughter. I wonder if Kronid had any idea about this or if all of it was Dema.
“I’m so glad you’re finding this amusing!” Trista snaps in an annoyed voice.
“It’s not that it’s amusing, it’s just . . . unexpected, but please, come have a seat.”
Trista’s eyes go wide like I’ve asked her to sit down with someone who came down with the bubonic plague. “I . . . I don’t think it would be a good idea.” She’s so quick to shut this down, but Dema must’ve seen something here.
“What can it hurt? We’ve already made it this far, so please, have a seat. I was about to have dinner alone anyway, and some company would be nice.”
Trista sucks in a sharp breath and nods, takes the seat across from me, and clears her throat. “So, we’re really going to do this, huh?”
“If you mean have dinner with pleasant company, then yes.”
Trista doesn’t say a word, though the way her eyes linger on mine for a few moments before I hand over the menu tells me exactly what I need to know. Dema might’ve seen something between us, and I don’t think she’s wrong. I’ve caught Trista blushing when I’ve made a joke or averting her eyes quickly when I walk past the receptionist’s desk. It’s like she’s trying to stare down at work, to keep her eyes off me.
Trista mulls over the menu and I watch the way she purses her lips together as she looks over the items. Her hair falls in loose waves around her face, kind of in the way you’d see the girls have when they come off the beach.
The waiter pushes the curtain back open and he appears to be a bit surprised. “Ah, I didn’t realize you were having company. I figured you were dining alone this evening. Care for a drink, miss?”
“She’ll have a red wine and a glass of water,” I answer for Trista as the strong desire to order for her comes through me.
Trista smiles lightly in my direction and averts her blue eyes back to the menu. The waiter nods and leaves us when Trista speaks up. “How do you know I
