Don't try to Escape

Chapter 4 - Part III

"They're incredible, Thomas," I can't hide my fascination.

"They are, indeed," he speaks smoothly, and his eyes gleamed.

We smiled at each other, and I conclude that we love those paintings. Each one for a different reason, but both with the same intensity. And, for the first time, I have to confess that I admire Thomas Mai. Not for the fact that he has reasons to love the restaurant, but for never giving up on making his dream comes true. I admire him for the passion he protects it. Lobo Negro is the apple of his eye. Now I understand his misgiving about hiring me.

Damned, Alden who knew precisely what he was doing.

Thomas and I have something in common, who knew? He knew it as much as I do, I can feel his eyes drawing the same conclusion as mine.

The taste of the cavatelli with butter and vongole would let anyone as agitated as a maestro. My mind flies up to another block, where Lobo Negro is. This is so delicious. It's better Lobo Negro's chef be good, or we're going to have trouble. Thomas doesn't look worried. He enjoys his dish, but delighting is to see my expression of pleasure after each bite.

"I'll dare to say you liked the choice."

He stops eating to watch me happy. I quit eating too, but I don't feel shy with his joke. What I really want to know is if I can order another one.

"I love seafood," I explain without looking at him.

"Good to know."

I have another bite, and I raise my eyes when I get surprised to see that he is still observing me. It feels like he is also surprised. What did I do this time? I bent my head, inquisitive, and I squeeze my eyes to show that I'm still intrigued. At that moment, his face becomes nebulous, and his eyes turn even darker. He averts his eyes in the most subtle way possible and gives attention to his dish. What the hell! What's wrong with him? I'm not going to risk our dinner and ask what is going on. The little I have learned about Thomas Mai is that everything becomes nothing, and nothing becomes everything. I'm not going to pull the trigger.

I do the same and direct my attention to the macaroni, which doesn't taste the same anymore. We keep silent for a long time. A man comes to greet Thomas at the table and, even when he was gone, he stays silent. Our second dish comes, it's a kind of salad with chicken, and there he is, the silence of a cloud covering our table.

I don't understand why I'm feeling so awkward. This was my hope since the beginning. The less we talk, the less he asks questions and less intimacy we create. Then, the chances of getting this job will increase even more.

"When will you go to LN?" he breaks the silence.

I look at his face trying to interpret his expression, but nothing helps me.

"When you hire me," I try to look indifferent.

What's up now? I can't do the job I'm not going to be paid for, no matter if I want this with every inch of my being. Don't fuck this up, Mai.

"You're sweating at me in your head, aren't you?" he makes the remark naturally.

How does he know that?

I nod at him and stay focused on my meal.

"You're not the talkative kind," he says.

My fork stops in the air. I gaze at Thomas' eyes who bents his head to one side trying to figure out what is going on in my mind. He leans back on the chair to enjoy my reaction. Where does he want to go with this? It was him who got in a bubble.

"What do you want me to say?" I ask coldly.

What does he expect me to say? That he looks hot? Isn't it quite clear?