Afraid to Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

letting me know,” the manager said and walked away.
    I could tell he hadn't taken me seriously.
    “Everything okay?” Mark asked.
    His cheeks were tinged pink and I wondered if I had embarrassed him.
    “No, he should do more than just talk to him,” I said.
    “Sounds like the kid's in a tough spot,” Mark said.
    “Life is a tough spot,” I said and turned on my heels.
    “Do you want to sit down?” Mark asked.
    I nodded and led the way. As we walked to the table, I wondered what we were going to talk about. It didn't seem like we had much in common. As we sat in an awkward silence I caught myself enjoying the bright blue color of Mark's eyes. I scolded myself and reminded myself that it was just loneliness making him so attractive. I had told myself a hundred times or more the next man I took to bed was going to be the one I spent my life with. Mark was nice, but I couldn't imagine taking him home to meet my aunts and uncles. Hell, I could even imagine telling Sasha I was dating a white guy. I almost laughed out loud, because here I was checking him out and wondering why he went through all the trouble to return my phone instead of just handing it off to the staff of the coffee shop.
    “Why did you go through so much trouble for me?” I finally asked him.
    “Because I wanted to see you again,” he answered.
    “Why?” I asked.
    “Because you're intriguing,” he said.
    I blinked.
    “You mean you want to hit on me?” I laughed.
    “You're a beautiful woman,” he admitted, “but you're also a bit mysterious and I love meeting new people. As a writer it keeps me inspired.”
    “So you want to use me for a muse?” I laughed.
    “Is that a bad thing?” he asked.
    “No, it's a bit silly,” I smiled, “and not what I expected, but I can live with that.”
    “Sorry to disappoint,” he said as he grinned.
    “No, you're just different,” I said.
    “Different?” he asked.
    “Different from most men. Different from how I thought white men would be,” I said, and instantly regretted it.
    “Am I the first white man you've talked to?” he asked laughing.
    “No!” I retorted, “I've just never really...”
    “It's okay,” he laughed, “but you should know that just because I'm a man or white doesn't mean I fit into any box. I've been called weird my whole life.”
    “Sorry,” I said, looking down at the table.
    “It's okay,” he said again, “I'm a hard man to offend. I have a box of keepsakes at home. It's full of rejection slips from publishers.”
    “How many?” I asked.
    “More than thirty,” he laughed, “but I have several books out that I've self-published.”
    “Really?” I asked.
    “No, I just made it up,” he said sarcastically before laughing. “Of course, I do.”
    I laughed at myself for sounding like a silly teenage girl, but I was having fun. I should have left then because I was having too much fun, but I couldn't bring myself to.
    “What do you write?” I asked him.
    He scribbled a web address on a napkin and handed it to me.
    “Check it out, it's my website,” he grinned.
    “I'll have to do that,” I nodded.
    The waiter brought our drinks out and my stomach growled to remind I hadn't eaten lunch.
    “Are you hungry?” I asked.
    “No, I already ate,” he said.
    I was about to ignore my stomach until I got home, but Mark must have known I was hungry.
    “But they have wonderful sorbet here,” he quickly added, “and I'm always ready for desert.”
    “Sounds like a plan,” I laughed.
    I think we annoyed the cashier by ordering a second time, but I didn't care.
    As we ate, we talked more about our parents. I even told Mark the truth about how my mother couldn't be bothered to hang around once I turned five.
    “She hasn't even contacted you since?” he asked.
    I shook my head in response.
    “That sucks,” he frowned, “I'm sorry.”
    “Don't be,” I told him, “She just showed me what I didn't want to be.”
    “See? You can look at the bright side!”