~Chapter 59~
"So, what do you wanna eat?" Michael’s voice cut through the trance-like state I’d fallen into as I stared down at the nu in my hands.
I’d been engaged in a glare contest with the confusing words on the page for more than five minutes, ever since the waiter had handed it to us.
My eyes had scanned the nu countless tis, but the words might as well have been written in a foreign language.
Because, I couldn’t read the complicated descriptions, and the restaurant...the fancy, high class restaurant was very evil, their failure to include pictures of the dishes alongside their nas only added to my frustration.
I felt a surge of embarrassnt wash over as I realized I was completely at a loss.
I don’t know what to pick because I can’t read. I couldn’t even begin to pretend to know what I was doing.
This realization was humiliating, and I didn’t want to wonder what Michael must think of .
Glanced up at him, flashing him a small, sheepishly smile. My face growing warm with embarrassnt and the familiar sense of sha and uselessness.
I was embarrassed that I couldn’t read, and I was even more mortified that Michael would find out.
Hoping to keep my secret hidden, but now I was worried that he would discover the truth, if he hadn’t already when I asked his about the sign written above.
"Can’t pick, right?" Michael said, teasing and I thought he was mocking , ridiculing my inability to read.
I hid my face further into the nu, worthless! But then Michael continued with words that surprised .
"I can’t either," he said, scanning his own nu. "All the foods are so good." He let out a low whistle. "I’m having a hard ti choosing just one thing."
My embarrassnt began to fade, Michael wasn’t mocking ; he was simply sympathizing with my dilemma.
Stop over thinking. Slowly I dropped down the man, covering my face, a small frown still on present.
"Are all the nus here just text?" I whispered, my eyes darting around the restaurant to make sure no one was listening.
"Do they not have pictures with the al?" it was clearly a little silly saying these words.
Michael heard and he leaned into his seat, just as a waiter was passing our table.
"Excuse ," Michael called out and the waiter, who had been hurrying by, turned on his heel, facing out table.
"Can I get a nu with the food pictures in it?" Michael requested, politely.
The waiter’s expression changed from attentive to confused, and he glanced over at .
I felt my face grow even hotter at his confused gaze but Michael didn’t hesitate in saying.
"I need to see what I want to order before I do," he explained, smooth and matter-of-fact.
The waiter nodded, his confusion dissipating. "Right away, sir," he said, turning to walk away.
My flipping heart swelled with emotion. I turned to Michael, my eyes observing his features.
Where did this human co from? I wondered. He had saved from an embarrassing situation, effortlessly taking the attention off my inability to read.
I looked down, fiddling with my fingers in my lap, my cheeks flushed red. I couldn’t believe how thoughtful and considerate Michael was being. He had no idea how much his simple act had ant to .
"Katya," Michael voiced and I glanced up, eting his warm gaze. "The nu," he added, holding out the new nu with pictures.
I took the nu from him, a small smile playing on my lips as I thanked him. "Thank you," I opened the new nu.
The pictures of the dishes were vibrant and appetizing, and I quickly scanned the pages, my eyes glazing over as I took in the options.
I spotted one dish that caught my eye, and quickly I pointed it out to Michael.
"I like this one," I said, with so much excitent. "Can I get it?" I looked up at Michael, expecting him to glance at the nu to see which dish I was pointing at.
But instead, he was already looking at ...? His eyes were having this intensity that made my heart flutter.
"Can I?" I whispered again, but now barely audible. Michael’s gaze held mine for a beat longer, and then he blinked, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you need, you get... mi’lady," he lowly said, chuckling as a giggle escaped my lips.
A waiter appeared at our side again, awaiting our order. Michael glanced at , before turning back to the waiter.
"We’ll have the grilled chicken with roasted vegetables, and a side of garlic bread,"The waiter nodded and scribbled down our order, walking out.
Michael turned his attention back to . "What’s your full na?" he asked, wanting to bring up a conversation.
My smile dipped, and I was not very comfortable anymore. mories of my father and his stupid na flooded my mind.
"Katya..."My voice trailed off as I struggled to continue. Michael’s face expression turned confused, and I knew I had to clarify.
"Just Katya," My voice cracked, his dead.... don’t let him spoil your mood. "I don’t have a surna." I quickly ended, looking side ways.
Michael’s eyes clouded over with two emotions; surprise and curiosity. He shook his head, drifting his gaze away from mine too.
His fingers began to tap against the tabletop, a sign that he was deep in thought.
My heart pounded in my chest, watching him and wondering what he was thinking. Did he pity ? Did he think I was strange or abnormal for not having a surna?
We fell into an uncomfortable silence, the kind that feels like a heavy blanket suffocating the conversation.
I hated it, hated the way it made feel awkward and fidgety. The waiter arrived with our al, the savory aromas wafting up from the plates and breaking the silence.
Slowly I began to eat, the flavors providing a mini welco distraction from the awkwardness.
Michael broke the silence, his voice a little softer than before. "So, umm, where are you from?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass.
I watched him, racking my brain about what he was drinking. It wasn’t water, like I had ordered for myself. Maybe it was wine or juice?
Where was I from? Who knows. I didn’t really have an answer. I’m from nowhere, and going nowhere.
I’m just a leaf blowing in the wind, turning around in circles without any real direction.
Looking back up at Michael. "Nowhere," I answered and Michael’s eyebrows raised.
He gave that look, the one that said "really?" without him actually saying it. His expression spoke more than words could but he shook his head again.
*****
"I’m sorry, I should have been the one introducing myself instead of asking," Michael said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips again.
"Just that being an ex-cop has sothing that doesn’t leave you," he added, chuckling, clearly joking about the lasting impact of his forr profession
But I wasn’t laughing. He is a what, a cop? Like, a police officer? My eyes widened in surprise, processing this new information.
No offense to police or to Michael but Michael didn’t look nor act like the type of police I envisioned them to be.
Michael seemingly sensing my shock, he leaned in. "Ok, my na is Michael Giovanni," he began his introduction.
" I’m from Country A, I was a police officer, I’m twenty-five, and I’m single." He wiggled his eyebrows when he said "single," and I rolled my eyes, shaking my head with a tsk.
See what I an, about him not fitting like a police.
"Why aren’t you a cop anymore?" I asked, my curiosity that almost got killed before still getting the better of .
I leaned in, eager to hear his story.Michael’s expression turned thoughtful, and he paused for a mont before responding and his playful voice took on a more serious tone.
"Well, I beca a cop out of spite to my father," Michael lowly rumbles out a chuckle escaping his lips.
His eyes sparkled with amusent as he recalled the past. "He wanted to take over his company, but I wasn’t ready. I was too young, too reckless, and too stubborn."
He paused, a faraway look in his eyes, and I held my breath, quickly holding his hand, thinking he was about to reveal a deeper, more emotional story.
But Michael’s expression suddenly shifted, and he grinned mischievously. "And the old man was persistent, and he did dirty. I was posted to be an office cop, just lazying around, doing nothing. It was a joke. I was a police officer, but I wasn’t doing any real policing." He chuckled again, shaking his head.
"Finally, I didn’t want to be a cop anymore, and I just resigned." He gaze at , and I saw a glimr of sothing more serious beneath his lighthearted tone.
"My father is now breathing down my neck to take over the company," he said and this ti it was tinged with frustration.
But his expression quickly shifted again, and he grinned. "But I’m not giving in. Not yet, anyway." he finished speaking, drinking the last beat of his drink from his glass.
"Shit," Michael muttered, glancing down at his wristwatch with surprise. "It’s almost ti for your work. Let take you to your apartnt."
He pushed back his chair, moving towards mine and helping out. My face was beat read at his character. He was always looking out for , always trying to take care of . And I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, to his kind and generous spirit.
★
Roo is about to make an entrance lol :)
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