Installment 3: Thea

Read the earlier installments here: Installment 1, Installment 2

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I was nervous as hell as I walked to the table.  I could feel my throat close and my mouth dry.  Thank God Sara let me borrow these heels.  I should really work on upping my sexy clothes options if I ever wanted to keep Nathan’s attention now that I had it for a hot minute.  And by hot minute, I froze as I watched Nathan watch me.  He didn’t hide his obvious perusing of my outfit and body.  His lopsided smile made my knees weak as he stood to grab my chair.  Sitting.  Good.  Sitting leads to not collapsing.  

He pushed in my chair, rounded the table, sat down, licking those sexy lips, and smiled.  “You look stunning.”

I felt the heat lick down from my hair line and up from my neck all at once.  I wasn’t used to feeling objectified.  But somehow Nathan made it feel like a good thing?  Get it together, girl.  You work together.

“Thanks.”  I couldn’t keep my eyes from finding his green ones.  They were dark with something I didn’t quite recognize.  It was terrifying and alluring.  “This place is great.  I love the food but almost never come.”

“Why?” His eyes tracked my earrings as they swing with my head shake shoulder shrug combo.

“I like to save it as a treat so I don’t stop loving it.”  Liar.  I hated eating alone in such a romantic setting, but that felt too girlfriend-y to say in this situation.

“So you enjoy denying yourself known pleasures?”  His eyebrow raised and his eyes trained on my mouth as it popped open at his brazen comment.

“Ummm, what are you getting tonight?”  I grabbed the menu and shoved it in front of my face.  Flirt back or call him on his shit, don’t hide.  How are you so awkward? That comment should not lead to no response. Gah!  My thoughts were non-stop and I hated it.  Just shut up!  If only that actually worked on any regular basis.  I continued babbling, hoping the noise would drown out the thoughts.  “My favorites are the Beef Bourguignon or the Ratatouille.  The Ratatouille being less ‘high end’ but still so delicious.  But only here.  I can never seem to get the same tenderness or flavor in the veggies at home.”

A hand pulled at my menu and look up.

“If you already know what you’re getting, can you please tell me why you’re hiding behind your menu?”  His eyes traveled down the deep v of my dress’ neckline, and I shifted in my chair.

“Well, you never know when something new might pop up that you want to try.”

“Yes, I bet things pop up all over when you’re around.”  He’s making fun of me, I can tell.

“You never answered my question.”  I refused to give him the pleasure of knowing just how much I hoped that was the case right now.  Plus, what kind of jerk acted like that when out on a not date with a coworker?  Oh, God.  Please tell me this is a date!  Wait, even if it was, shouldn’t I be offended by the way he’s speaking to me?

Luckily, the waiter appeared to take our orders so I didn’t have to spend too much time thinking through why I enjoyed being objectified this much by someone I had limited interactions with.  Well, limited in the real world at least.

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