I blinked, feeling topology equations flit around in my head. Bill was standing over me, a small smile on his face. His eyes struck me again—so dark. His short beard had flecks of red in it.
I wondered if he’d taste like cinnamon. Then it hit me what he’d said.
“Oh!” I checked the clock behind the diner’s counter. It was Tuesday, and I’d been here since midnight. It was just past four. “Sorry! Let me get my shit together. I didn’t realize what time it was.” I started grabbing my mess of papers.
“’Sokay,” he said, in his lovely drawl. “I’ll clean up around you first. I already got the grill done.”
I’d been really lost in my work. “I get sort of…focused.”
“I noticed,” he said.
I gathered my stuff, trying not to stare too obviously. He’d taken the apron off. The width of his chest was all the more obvious.
By the time I got myself organized, he was almost ready to go. He had his back to me, and I got to the front door. I took a deep breath.
“Listen,” I said, and he turned. His eyes did their usual slap-across-my-brain and I faltered.
He raised one eyebrow.