Whether he noticed it or not and decided to keep talking because I didn’t stop him, I didn’t know. But I didn’t really mind his banter surprisingly. I didn’t have much problem with engaging although I still found myself monitoring what to say and what to keep to myself. Still, much like our first meeting, the conversation flowed all the way to the point where we got to the restaurant.
After he finds a parking place he leads the way into the diner, I noticed with ease. Despite me being the one who introduced the idea of going to this place.
“You’ve been here before?” I ask once we settle in a booth.
“More often than I like to admit.” He replies. “But I’m not a real fan of cooking. I rather just come here and get something made for me.”
“You know if you don’t know how to cook you could just say it.”
I say before I can stop myself. The statement was meant to be a mental yet snarky, verging on a playfully rude joke. It was my humor…that could often rub people the wrong way. Especially with my lukewarm tone. It could easily be misinterpreted as me being serious.
But Milan, instead chuckles. His vivid green eyes flickering with mischief. “I was never taught but yeah I guess you’re right.”
Relief washes over me.
I’m both happy he didn’t take offense and a bit confused as to how I slipped up and became so lax around him. Then again, we aren’t in a work setting. And if I’m being completely honest, he wasn’t acting like the spoiled brat one would expect a young man with a rich aunt/guardian would be.
“I never really needed to. Foods and meals are usually always prepared for me ”
Unimpressed my lids lower.
I take it back.
“Must be nice.” I murmur, picking up the menu.
My eyes barely get a chance to skim the breakfast portion of it before he grabs my attention again.
“Not always. I appreciated having what I needed. But it could get a bit lonely eating by myself as a kid.”
I blink at the admission. It’s the only thing I can think to do in that instant as a solemn feeling tugged at me. no, I hadn’t known Milan long, but somehow picture a small version of himself sitting alone at a table because everyone was too busy or couldn’t be bothered made me feel terrible.
I guess I was a bit quick to judge at what I initially assumed was a privilege.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to say. “I should be a lot kinder.”
“don’t worry about it.” he smiles. “It doesn’t bother me, really. plus, it was all before I got left with Monika.”
Left?
I have questions. but for the sake of prying and being annoying I keep my mouth shut as he continues to talk.
“you’ve met my aunt and been around her long enough to get a feel for the type of person she is, right? can you imagine her wanting to raise a kid?”
Not in the slightest. I want to say, but I again I remember who I’m in front of.
“You know you’ve been a bit closed off since we’ve met again.” Milan says after a beat of silence stretches between us. His eyes playfully narrow.
“you’re my bosses’ nephew.” I shrug. “It would be unprofessional for me to say comment on what you just said.”
“So?” he mimics my shrug. “I think we’ve sort of crossed the boundary of professionalism since you caught me with some girl wrestling my belt.”
“That doesn’t count.”
His head tilts. “How so?”
“I didn’t even know who you were at the time. which you should have made clear. Instead of just…I dunno winging it.”
Maybe it was my hormones paired with me being hungry which often alter my mood. But I could feel myself getting annoyed at the situation just by thinking about it. I did admittedly enjoy our car ride home that night. but I couldn’t help but feel a little deceived that this boy was mischievous enough to put me in his little deceitful game. It made me feel like some sort of pawn, now as I looked at it as a whole.
Then again, where have I known a man to use me in any other way but that-
“you’re right.” the words suddenly leave Milan’s lips.
I blink. “I’m sorry? About what?”
He sets the menu down, and shrugs again. “I said you’re right. I was wrong. I should have at least tried to be more upfront about the whole thing and what was going on. I didn’t even think about whether you or the position it might put you in both work and personal wise. I was just thinking about getting out of the situation. my bad.”
I shift in my seat as an uncomfortable feeling suddenly settles over me.
Ok, I’ve also never known a man to flat out apologize for any wrong he may or may not done me. I get it, you can expect everyone to be responsible for your own feelings even when you yourself emotional invested in them. but it’d sure as hell would be nice to have someone be that considerate. But I never really dwelled on it. or at least, I tried not to. I always took it into stride when I placed my eggs with the purest of intentions in one basket, and the person I trusted to hold it (sometimes purposely) dropped it. it of course stung but again, it wasn’t their fault.
It was mines.
I should be so careless. Or expect people to be sorry for hurting.
So, this, what Milan dropped on me sounded like a foreign and uncomfortable language being spoken into me.
I clear my throat, “anyway. Lunch is on you right?” I divert, picking up the menu.
Like clockwork a waitress makes her way over to our table to take our order.
Even after wave placed our order, Milan doesn’t bring up what we’d just talked about. instead, he makes the topic about idle things yet again. it’s almost as if he could sense the former topic had made me uneasy. Or at least, the way he spoke to me during it did. And yet, he still continued to speak his usual animated way with me as he asked me questions about work. I did notice however that he didn’t pry about anything personal.
This man was full of surprises.
I’ve only known Milan a short time but I got the vibe that he was someone who usually asked and inquired about what he wanted in some way shape or form. However, this time he seemed to keep the topic strictly on work.
He was still his animated and lax self so it was hard not to crack a smile whenever he smoothly interjected about something. I’d never had a lively conversation like this with the opposite sex before so it was rather easy to get wrapped up in and forget about the dull aches that occupied me.
but…it was also easy for the overwhelming disappointment to consume me when his phone rang.
I’m so glad his eyes diverted from me, to his phone, when it happened; the way my shoulders slumped before I could control the action was embarrassing even to me.
I quickly push against the invisible weight on my shoulders and speak, “its fine. don’t worry about it. I can imagine how busy you are with your own work.”
He shoots me an apologetic but boyish look, “thanks, Elle. I’ll be back in a bit.”
He slides out of the booth across from me.
Ironically moments later, our food comes. Even though Milan was treating, and I did have an urge of pancakes, I kind of kept myself at bay when I ordered. It was a mixture of my step mothers constant berating of me eating like a pig from childhood all the way till adulthood and my lack of table mannerisms. And just plain being insecure. I know it was embarrassing that a girl my age would be so worried about eating in front of man, especially when it was just a normal outing. But I couldn’t help but be a little cautious. Hell, even Quinn, the father of my child, use to make jokes about how much I eat. At least he said it was a joke. But I still felt a little odd eating in front of him.
The last thing I wanted was someone id possibly be seeing at my work more often mocking me for my portion’s sizes. So, I kept my meal at minimum of a sourdough grilled cheese sandwich and pineapple juice and prayed that’d be enough to ease the pangs in my stomach.
Milan on the other hand ordered a small tower of blueberry pancakes, a side of bacon and even German hashbrowns…whatever that is.
I’m about to reach of my sandwich, when I halt myself midway, remembering being scolded to the point of being told to eat by myself for at emptying eating ahead of everyone in my home
My hands drop to my lap and I wait. occasionally, as time passes, I wince. The hunger pangs are becoming more frequent and littler more prominent. Almost to the point where food doesn’t even seem of interest. Time passes by a little longer, and I look outside the window and see Milan is still chatting on the phone with his back toward the window.
I glance back down at the untouched food, cradling my aching belly.
How rude would It be if I just wrote down a note and left?
Maybe not too much at all. I mean he did seem rather busy. Like whatever it is he had to talk about on the phone absolutely could not wait. maybe I was keeping him from wherever he needed to be right now at this moment. or maybe I’m just making excuse-
“Brielle?”
A feminine voice suddenly pulls my gaze toward my right.
+++++++
“Oh, Hannah? What are you doing here?”
The former dirty blonde was now a brighter more bleach color and had a soft tan to her usual fair skin. the look in its entirety was a huge contrast to how I saw her a couple of days ago. one wouldn’t imagine she’d been crying over some asshole earlier.
“I live around here?” she says slow and ‘duh’ -like. There’s a gleeful smile on her face though that tells me it’s not with the full intent to mock. “What about you?”
Her baby blues drop down to the sight of the plates at my table. “I see…treating yourself?”
Now I wasn’t so sure if she was trying to be a smart ass, or throwing a low jab at my eating habits.
A part of me is tempted to say something snarky back. but then I quickly think against it once I remember id likely have to see her again. And the last thing I needed was her running to Monika.