Page 11 of Pillow Talk

“Yeah, I’m actually going to be heading to Manhattan this week to attend some meetings and a gala there. My company has some dealings with them,” he informs me as he pulls up to the stop by Arch Street, putting the car in park.

Speechless, I look at him, and he turns in his seat and starts to say something, then stops again.

“Thanks for the ride, Ben.” I look at the door to figure out how to open it, concerned with breaking something.

“Wait,” he stops me, placing his hand on my arm. Heat shoots straight to my core. “When is your last final?” he questions.

“In about an hour,” I tell him after checking my phone, the clock on the front taunting me with a silent tick-tock.

“Well, I was thinking. I—” He runs his hand through his hair, and I nervously check the clock again. “This is going to sound crazy, so I’m just going to come right out and ask. Would you be interested in accompanying me to Manhattan?”

I’m sure the stunned look on my face is even less attractive than I’m imagining, but I’m floored right now…by so many things. The one standing out the most is the fact that I’m seriously entertaining the idea at all.

“Excuse me?” Surely, I didn’t hear him right. “Did you say go to Manhattan? Me? With you?” The idea is tempting and intriguing and not just because he’s gorgeous and it’s Tate & Cane. But because…hello… Zing.

“Look, I know it seems sudden, insane even.” I’m nodding, and he keeps talking. “There will be events, mixers... Shit, I’m not explaining this very well. I’m obligated to make appearances at these things and I would rather not go to them alone. And, I’d rather not get into it all, but my ex will be there—“

“Your ex!” Okay, moment broken. Finding the handle, I exit the car, and he follows right after.

“Look, Alexa. It’s not what you think.” He rounds the car, trying to explain. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out a business card, he passes it to me. “Just think about it.” Our hands brush, and there it is again, that damn zing.

“I can pay you.” My face drops at his comment. “I mean for your time…or I mean company-- err your services.”

I slam the car door, not giving a shit if it hurts his precious car, and start walking.

Leaving his car parked in a drop off zone, he follows after me.

“Alexa, wait. That came out all wrong. I can’t get my words to come out right around you. I know you feel it, too.” He keeps following me.

“Go away, Ben. It was nice meeting you.” I walk away, but he is relentless.

“It’s not because you’re gorgeous,” he starts, and I whip around and glare at him.

“What the—“Is he for real right now.

“It’s not because you have bewitching blue eyes and legs for days. That’s just a bonus.” I pause, letting his words sink in. “It’s also because you are brilliant, and I would be honored to have you be my plus-one.”

That strikes a chord. I walk toward him, one foot and then the other. I’m actually considering this.

“Just name your price.” He steps closer, close enough to touch, and all I feel is a chill from the comment he just doused me with, like a bucket of ice water. Fuck you, Ben. Fuck you and your ice bucket challenge comment.

My finger digs into his chest as I point, immediately regretting the contact. “Just because I’m a waitress doesn’t mean I’m a whore for hire. If you’re looking for a date, you’re a long way from Hollywood Boulevard.”

I turn once more and try not to cry as I walk home.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars.” His words stop me in my tracks.

Without turning around, I shake my head and keep walking. Because even though that’s a lot of money, my dignity isn’t for sale. Goodbye Ben.