I Hate You - Ilsa Madden-Mills Page 0,69
get this over and done, checked off the list.
The booth is a deep red and circular. He slides in next to me, his leg a respectable distance away, yet the heat of him is close. It feels weird.
He smiles at me, his eyes direct, and perhaps…nice?
“So, Boston? I hear you lost the internship you had.”
Dr. Alfonsi is quite the talker, apparently.
“Something will come up. If it doesn’t, I’ll be moving in with my parents.” I manage a smile, wanting to be upbeat and normal, but my stomach hurts.
I wonder where Blaze is. Probably somewhere with “fans” all over him.
“Charisma…you listening?” He laughs.
I come back, realizing he was talking. What was he saying? Oh, yeah, our post-graduation plans. “Sorry. What about you? What’s next?”
“NYU for med school.”
“Nice. Congrats.”
He flashes a sheepish smile at me, the dimples in his cheeks popping. “Thanks. Looking forward to living in New York again.”
Yep. I can never tell Ma about Mike. She’ll be stalking his socials, inviting his parents to dinner…
A waitress in a black dress comes over. I recognize her from one of my classes. “Drinks for y’all—”
“A shot of tequila for me, please,” I say before she can finish, blushing at Mike’s grin.
“Ready to party, I see,” he says.
“No, just a long week. Really fucking long.”
His eyebrow arches as he searches my face, and his lips tilt up in a slightly crooked smile. “It’s going to be like that, huh? Good.”
I blink, not sure what he means.
He looks at the waitress. “Bring us two shots each, please. Patron Silver—and keep them coming.”
I laugh, feeling more at ease. “Someone else having a rough semester?”
He lowers his face until it’s close to mine, and I smell his cologne, the scent of sandalwood. “My ex dumped me last semester, and I have a class with her. Sucks big time.”
I burst out laughing. “STFU!” I lean into him and give his hand a quick squeeze. “Mike, I’ll be honest, I was worried you might be hard to connect with. No offense, it’s just Dr. A’s guys are never my type—but, dude, we’ve got this date down. My ‘sorta ex’ is also in one of my classes.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t get away from mine. She’s driving me nuts in that class.”
“Same.”
“What the hell are we going to do?”
“Drink,” I say when the waitress sets our glasses down.
He lifts the first one up. “Fuck love.”
I lift mine, murmuring an agreement, and we toss them back.
Three shots plus a glass of wine later, I feel awesome, better than I have in two days. The place is getting busier, the booths filling up. And Mike? He’s nice. He’s fun. He has a nice laugh and hazel eyes with green glints that are pretty.
“You ever get lonely?” he says with a lingering look.
“What do you mean?”
He toys with his shot glass. “Nothing. I mean, we’re both far from home, and it’s tough. This semester is the longest of my life. I just want to get away from here…”
“From her?”
He gives me that cute grin. “Yeah. I haven’t been with anyone since her—shit, I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’re my date.” He grimaces and looks down at the table.
“It’s the liquor. And look, I’m not lining you up as my next boyfriend—even though Ma would love it—so say what you want. Tell me about her.”
His eyes lift. “Damn. You’re cool.”
I laugh.
“And fucking gorgeous.”
Oh.
Well, then.
I did mange to avoid carbs this week. There was that one cupcake, but no one’s perfect.
I stare at the table. “Thanks.”
He clears his throat. “Do you want to order something to eat? Soak up this alcohol?”
“Sure.”
We devour our burgers, and after they’re gone, there’s another glass of wine on the table. My body is loose and relaxed as the restaurant gets louder, co-eds and townies taking up seats until the place is packed. Mike’s arm is thrown across the back of the booth, his hand barely touching my shoulder. He loves model planes and likes to play chess—score. He’s currently taking tennis lessons, and I laugh when he tells me how terrible he is at sports. I tell him about my pathetic attempts at yoga. He chuckles.
I watch him, taking in the square chin and dimples. He’s handsome with a dash of nerd boy. Old Charisma would be on her way to his place by now. She’d be in control, and when it was over, she’d drive back home and maybe call him again if she was interested.
My mind wanders, thinking about Blaze, and I sneak a