Maneater

Chapter Eleven

    "It sounded good. Loud, but good."

    He laughed. "Something tells me that is the closest thing to a compliment I'll get from you."

    "I'm quite the picky crowd."

    He nodded and resumed his seat in the large armchair. "So...are you going to tell me what happened?"

    "Probably not," she said casually.

    "You don't want to tell me what happened between you and Disney loverboy?" Austin asked in surprise. "You don't want to make up some story about how you had the perfect night with him and can't wait to see him again?"

    "I don't make shit up," she said flatly.

    "You sure pretended to like him earlier," he said with a shrug.

    She stood up from the couch. "I should get going."

    "You'd rather leave than just...talk to me?"

    "When you're being a dick, yes. I'd rather leave."

    He stared up at her for a long moment without saying anything. Then he asked, "Did that guy try to do something to you?"

    "None of your business."

    "You were crying."

    "Yeah, I remember that. Thanks for reminding me." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder. "Is my car outside? Did someone bring it?"

    His eyes crinkled at the corners. "Your car is back at the club. You rode with me."

    "My car is still at the club? But...I was parked in the street. Do you know how many tickets I'm going to get?"

    "I'll cover the tickets," he said smoothly.

    "My car has probably been towed by now."

    "I'll cover that too."

    She stared blankly at him.

    He tilted his head towards the couch. "Sit down."

    "I can't stay here."

    His facial expression remained neutral as he repeated, "I said, 'Sit down,' Crystal."

    The look on her face said that a million different rebuttals came to mind. Chances were that some of those rebuttals would've been complete with expletives, but she held her tongue and slowly sat back down on the couch.

    Drumming short nails on the armrest of the chair, he said, "You're going through something. That much is obvious. I don't know what it is that you're going through, but from the way you looked tonight...and judging from how long you cried...you need someone to talk to."

    "I have friends that I can talk to."

    "Why haven't you?"

    She looked away from him.

    "Why didn't you drive to one of them instead of driving to a club that promised you nothing except for a few dances, drinks, and a bunch of inebriated people?" he questioned. "For the life of me, I can't figure out why you'd drive there. Of all places."

    "I...I don't know," she mumbled, folding her hands together and resting them in her lap.

    "You don't know," he repeated.

    "Did I stutter?" she demanded. "I don't know."

    He ran a hand over the top of his head.

    "You're not my shrink," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "So there's no need to feel like you have to solve my issues."

    "I know I'm not your shrink," he said softly. "But I care about what happens to you."

    She rolled her eyes and shook her head.

    "Don't give me that," he told her sternly. "I brought you here, to my home. My personal space. I didn't have to do that, but I did it because I was worried about you. I didn't know if you were too drunk, but at the very least you were too distraught to drive. I couldn't just leave you there like that, so I brought you here. I genuinely do care about what happens to you."

    She chewed on her bottom lip while studying him. "Thank you...for making sure that I was okay."

    "No problem."

    She was quiet for a few minutes. Then she scooted back further on the couch and brought her knees up to her chest again, staring at him. "Have you ever looked around at your life and felt like maybe you've lived your life the wrong way? Followed the wrong path?"

    "I think most people feel like that at one time or another in their lives."

    "That's how I felt tonight," she said in a small voice. "There are these...things that I set out to do, these...vows that I've made to myself. But I look around and ask myself, what do I have to show for it? My career has taken off, and that's great. I don't mean to sound ungrateful. At the same time though, my friends are getting married and raising families and I'm just sitting here like..."

    "So settle down and get married," Austin suggested.

    She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Right, because it's that simple?"

    He shrugged. "You've got to at least open yourself up to it."

    "I'm open," she said defensively.

    He laughed and held up one hand with his palm facing outward. "You are the least open person I know."

    She frowned.

    "You're very closed off," he surmised. "You've got walls up. A ton of them. You aren't just skeptical. You're cynical. Which is humorous to me, because despite all that, you expect me to believe that you were into that douchebag back at the club."

    "When are you going to let that go?"

    "When you admit that it was bullshit."

    She tugged at one of the sleeves on his turquoise sweater. "Justin can be charmi-"

    "Bullshit," Austin interjected.

    She pursed her lips shut and stared at him.

    "I'm sorry, but that's bullshit."

    "Because naturally, you know how I think and feel after knowing me for a day," she muttered sarcastically.

    "I know more than you think."

    "Yeah?" She folded her arms across her chest. "What is it you know?"

    A smirk formed on his lips. "I know the real reason why you drove to that club."

    Vulnerability flashed in her eyes. "I told you that I don't know why I drove there."

    "But I think that you do know," he argued, standing and moving across the room. He squatted down in front of her and looked up. "I think you know and I want you to tell me why you drove there."

    She pushed her damp hair back from her face.

    He waited patiently. After all, he had nothing but time. She'd already allowed him a peek inside, a peek into who she really was as a person. So this toughened exterior she was trying to show him, he wasn't buying it. Underneath that tough exterior, her heart was bruised and hurting. If she ever expected to move past that hurt, she had to start being honest with herself. He wanted that honesty to start here and now, because he knew without a doubt why she'd driven to that club. There could only be one reason why. One. Not two, not three, not four. One.

    They seemed to be at a stand-off though, because she defiantly refused to speak. When she did finally open her mouth, it was to say, "Do you have anything to drink? Because if we're going to sit here having staring contests all night, I'd prefer to do so while having something to sip on."