So I take another bite and another. Just to make sure.
“You like it?”
I lift my head to find Jeremy swirling the contents of his glass and watching me intently, his plate barely touched.
My ears heat when I realize I’ve almost finished mine.
“It’s not bad,” I say all businesslike, trying to downplay my embarrassment.
Jeremy’s lips twitch and he pushes his plate in my direction. “You can have this, too.”
“I’m not that hungry.”
He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t take back his plate either. He plants his elbow on the table, leans his chin against his fist, and continues watching me from the rim of his cup.
The way he looks at me is unnerving. It’s like he wants to devour me instead of the food and then break me. Or maybe both at the same time.
So I focus on the omelet, trying and failing to figure out the special ingredient. Is it spices?
I choke in my haste and Jeremy slides a glass of water in my direction.
Only when I drink half of it and I’m assaulted by the burn do I realize it’s not water.
I cough, spluttering and hitting my chest as the burn settles there. “Why…why the hell would you give me pure vodka?”
He lifts a shoulder. “You were choking.”
“Water is fine.”
“Alcohol is better. You don’t drink much, why?”
“I’m not even going to ask how you know that. I just…don’t like losing my inhibitions.”
“I assume it has to do with drugging being a hard limit?”
I purse my lips, but apparently, that’s all the answer he needs, because he nods all-knowingly. This man is annoyingly observant and when I’m around him, I constantly have this feeling of being under a microscope.
He retrieves his glass and makes a show of drinking right from where my lip marks are.
Usually, that would make me squeamish, but right now, all I can do is stop and stare.
I clear my throat, more to disperse my attention than anything. “What happens after we eat?”
“We’re still eating.”
“I know. I’m asking about what comes after.”
“You need to learn how to live in the moment sometimes. Being too future-oriented will only lead you to the grave.”
“Thanks for the unsolicited advice.”
“You’re welcome.”
“That was sarcasm.”
“I know. Doesn’t suit you, but I digress.”
I eat a mouthful of food and stare at him. “Why do you think you’re an expert on what suits me and what doesn’t?”