Wrong for Me

03|prettiest brown eyes

NAOMI COLE—MAY

MY FOOT TAPPED WILDLY while I stared blankly at the document in front of me that was somehow void of words. Two hours ago, I sat down an my desk to begin my final paper of the year, yet the words never seemed to show up.

That was terrifying as an English major.

It also didn't help that Dante's number was laid right beside my computer, taunting me consistently. Every time I typed a few sentences, my gaze would travel right back over to that card that seemed to be teasing me relentlessly.

With a sigh, I stood from my desk and instead flopped onto my bed head first—smacking my nose on my phone that was laid in the middle.

"Shit," I hissed, instantly rolling over and rubbing under my nose to make sure I wasn't bleeding.

Thankfully, I wasn't, but somehow my energy seemed to suddenly be drained as I sunk into my comfortable bed. Because I had worked an extra long shift for the Friday night rush, I could barely keep my eyes open and was not looking forward to my even longer shifts this weekend.

Still, I felt a weird feeling in my belly as I wondered whether or not Dante would show up again.

Wishful thinking, I figured.

***

BALANCING FOUR PLATES ON my arms and hands, I somehow managed to place them down in front of four giggling girls that I had seen here way too much in the past two weeks. I worked here and couldn't even afford more than an appetizer most weeks.

Making sure they had everything they needed, I made my way back to the break room to finally rest after being on my feet for two hours. I couldn't wait to begin my career—whatever it turned out to be—because it would definitely be better than whatever this was.

"Naomi, table six when your break is over!" Another waiter called out to me just as I settled and finally felt an ounce of relaxation.

I rested for a few more minutes before my generosity took over and I decided not to leave whoever was at table six waiting for long. Knowing our clientele, they would probably tip wonderfully so it was best to serve them as well as possible.

"Good evening, can I start you—"

My sentence trailed off as I lifted my gaze to see Dante sitting right there in the same booth as before. I was so clueless that I hadn't even thought to second guess the table number.

"Surprised, Naomi?"

He leaned back in the seat with one of his eyebrows quirked as I began to feel that oh so familiar feeling of butterflies in my belly.

"No, since we seem to keep having these random encounters," I smiled sweetly and confidently even though I felt like a wreck under his intense gaze.

His eyes traveled my face as if he were inspecting me, narrowing them suddenly and making me a bit self-concious.

"What happened to your nose, sweetheart?"

The nickname he used was enough to make me swoon and faint like ladies in romance novels—but this wasn't one of those.

"My phone and my nose had the unfortunate chance of meeting each other," I told him, watching as he let out the most minuscule chuckle before returning to his overall neutral expression. "So, what can I get you to drink?"

"What's your favorite drink here?"

"The Appletini. Doesn't seem like your type of drink."

"Two of those please," he retorted with a smile, handing me the menu. "I already know what I want for my meal."