Remember Mia Read Online Free PDF
Author: Alexandra Burt
blushed and turned away. There was something slightly off about his face and his facial expression seemed to be in a constant state of disapproval.
“Hypertropia,” he said and wiggled his brows. “It’s a muscle imbalance, the visual axis of one eye is higher than the other. It’s hereditary. I wore glasses when I was younger but short of surgery one eye will always be slightly higher than the other.”
The very next day he dropped by for a drink. He sat at the bar and watched me as I walked the floor.
“You know what you should do?” Jack asked that day.
“What’s that?” I held a stack of menus like a shield between us.
“Check to see the progression of the tables instead of just marking the occupied tables at your station.”
“And why would I do that?”
He looked at me, puzzled. “To see if the tables are on dessert or if they’ve paid their checks. It expedites the operation.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said and laughed, trying not to focus on his eye again.
“Would you go out on a date with me?” Jack’s voice shook slightly, enough to be noticeable if you paid close attention.
“We’re not allowed to go on dates with patrons,” I lied and brushed invisible crumbs off my blouse. No one cared whom we dated; the waitress and hostess turnaround was staggering.
His eyes remained on my chest, and then he got up and downed his drink. “If I stop coming here, will you go out with me then?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I said.
A month later, we went on our first date. I wore my best dress, black, sleeveless, while he wore khakis and a blue unbuttoned shirt. A movie and then dinner, during which we both had too much to drink. In my tipsy stupor I must have told him about my rent being late because he offered to pay for the next month. “Come on,” he said, “let me do something for you.”
That line got to me. Any other night the comment wouldn’t have. After all, I was used to getting by and had always been able to muddle through, but money was tight, and I was struggling to keep up with my student loan payments. Jack’s comment later was “Liberal arts? No degree at all is better than a liberal arts degree,” and so I was stuck in a hostess position while all the waitress slots, popular for their high tips, were filled. I had yet to gain any additional insight into what I wanted to do with my life and I wondered if Delilah had told me a story altogether.
That night, Jack’s shirt smelled of starch and I wondered how his lips would feel on mine. My mouth on his mouth. A taste of what life could be if I let him do something for me.
On our second date, during which I expected reality to set in and expose how different we really were, Jack put his coat around my shoulders as the temperature dropped on our walk to the restaurant. The itchy wool and the smooth lining was every cliché of every romantic movie I had ever seen. The guy who put his coat around the girl’s shoulders is the good guy, good guys give you their coat, and bad guys take your clothes off. During dinner, I told him about my dating rules.
“Thirty days, no making out, no sex.” It was more or less myway of evoking a response regarding his intentions, but Jack, unshakable, undeterred Jack, didn’t flinch.
“I’ve got my own rule. It’s more like one hundred and eighty days, but okay. I accept,” he said and added, “So, we’re officially dating?”
“Whose side are you on?” I asked while we passed the MetLife Building. “Careerwise,” I added and moved my body closer to his as we walked hand in hand. “I’ve always wondered how lawyers figure out if they prefer being a defense lawyer or a prosecutor. Seems like two very different sides of the law to me.”
“You just pick a side,” he said and furrowed his brow as if my question made no sense at all.
When I asked him what he wanted to do years from now, he said, “I’m looking to become assistant DA. From there, district DA, then
“Hypertropia,” he said and wiggled his brows. “It’s a muscle imbalance, the visual axis of one eye is higher than the other. It’s hereditary. I wore glasses when I was younger but short of surgery one eye will always be slightly higher than the other.”
The very next day he dropped by for a drink. He sat at the bar and watched me as I walked the floor.
“You know what you should do?” Jack asked that day.
“What’s that?” I held a stack of menus like a shield between us.
“Check to see the progression of the tables instead of just marking the occupied tables at your station.”
“And why would I do that?”
He looked at me, puzzled. “To see if the tables are on dessert or if they’ve paid their checks. It expedites the operation.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said and laughed, trying not to focus on his eye again.
“Would you go out on a date with me?” Jack’s voice shook slightly, enough to be noticeable if you paid close attention.
“We’re not allowed to go on dates with patrons,” I lied and brushed invisible crumbs off my blouse. No one cared whom we dated; the waitress and hostess turnaround was staggering.
His eyes remained on my chest, and then he got up and downed his drink. “If I stop coming here, will you go out with me then?”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I said.
A month later, we went on our first date. I wore my best dress, black, sleeveless, while he wore khakis and a blue unbuttoned shirt. A movie and then dinner, during which we both had too much to drink. In my tipsy stupor I must have told him about my rent being late because he offered to pay for the next month. “Come on,” he said, “let me do something for you.”
That line got to me. Any other night the comment wouldn’t have. After all, I was used to getting by and had always been able to muddle through, but money was tight, and I was struggling to keep up with my student loan payments. Jack’s comment later was “Liberal arts? No degree at all is better than a liberal arts degree,” and so I was stuck in a hostess position while all the waitress slots, popular for their high tips, were filled. I had yet to gain any additional insight into what I wanted to do with my life and I wondered if Delilah had told me a story altogether.
That night, Jack’s shirt smelled of starch and I wondered how his lips would feel on mine. My mouth on his mouth. A taste of what life could be if I let him do something for me.
On our second date, during which I expected reality to set in and expose how different we really were, Jack put his coat around my shoulders as the temperature dropped on our walk to the restaurant. The itchy wool and the smooth lining was every cliché of every romantic movie I had ever seen. The guy who put his coat around the girl’s shoulders is the good guy, good guys give you their coat, and bad guys take your clothes off. During dinner, I told him about my dating rules.
“Thirty days, no making out, no sex.” It was more or less myway of evoking a response regarding his intentions, but Jack, unshakable, undeterred Jack, didn’t flinch.
“I’ve got my own rule. It’s more like one hundred and eighty days, but okay. I accept,” he said and added, “So, we’re officially dating?”
“Whose side are you on?” I asked while we passed the MetLife Building. “Careerwise,” I added and moved my body closer to his as we walked hand in hand. “I’ve always wondered how lawyers figure out if they prefer being a defense lawyer or a prosecutor. Seems like two very different sides of the law to me.”
“You just pick a side,” he said and furrowed his brow as if my question made no sense at all.
When I asked him what he wanted to do years from now, he said, “I’m looking to become assistant DA. From there, district DA, then
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