Chapter 05

DEA

"You know, maybe if you tell me what's bothering you, it will stop bothering you," Erica mused as she stirred yet another sachet of sugar into her coffee—she was probably on the fifth packet, I lost count after the third.

We were in my favorite coffee shop for lunch since it was a rare day when we both weren't completely swamped with work. I sipped on my pumpkin spice ice latte and sighed in relief. Truly, ice coffee was the essence of life, and of this, I was a hundred percent certain—I was a scientist with a doctorate, after all, I knew my shit.

That made me sound like a conceited peacock flaunting my shit.

I grimaced at the thought and placed my ice latte on the table, "Something happened last night and it's been bothering me ever since."

"Okay, that much I've established. You walked into work with a sour face and it's gotten worse," Erica deadpanned with a tight-lipped smile when I cut her a glare, "you wear your emotions on your face, Dea. It's difficult not to notice when you're upset."

"Is it?" I didn't believe that "Jason never seems to figure it out."

"Does this have to do with him again? I don't know why you still insist on dating him," Erica rolled her eyes, sipping her expresso. When the bitter liquid hit her tongue, she scrunched her nose and reached for more sugar, "I am never ordering this again. It sucks."

She was currently making her way down the menu and this must have been the first thing she tried and did not like.

"I don't think the sugar is helping much."

"Neither do I," she admitted but proceeded to add three more, "back to the conversation, why are you dating him again?"

"Because I love him," I said the words in a matter-of-fact tone but I wasn't sure if I believed them anymore. They always said that women left men in their head first before the relationship could physically end. I was starting to understand that theory, no longer feeling emotionally attached to Jason.

"Maybe you did once, now you're just with him out of comfort," Erica supplied with a shoulder shrug, "listen, you have this whole plan and you're sticking with it because you feel you aren't getting any younger but maybe that's where your problem lies. There's already a snag in your plan, Dea. The man doesn't want to marry you and you're not happy. You are, quite literally, compromising your happiness here for that dickward."

I hated to admit it but I was starting to think Erica had a point.

"I can't just leave him. We've been together for five years," I held up a hand to emphasize the amount of time.

"Yeah, you wasted your twenties on him, don't do the same with your thirties," she offered me pleading puppy dog eyes as if begging me to see the error of my ways, "anyway, what did he do now that's bugging you so much?"

"Well, we slept together," I snickered when Erica's face twisted into a grimace, "it felt wrong, though. I don't know how to describe it..."

Erica's eyes widened and she leaned half her body over the circular table between us, dropping her voice to a harsh, seething whisper, "Did that asshat force himself on you?"

"No," I shrieked, shaking my head vehemently, "Gosh no, of course not. It was consensual but it just didn't feel right. I really don't know how to explain it."

I usually had no complaints when it came to Jason in bed. He had never once forced himself on me and it was important to him for it to be consensual. It was a quality I admired about him. However, last night was different because I had to fake an orgasm multiple times and I very rarely ever faked one with Jason. Last night though, I faked every one I had. No matter how hard I tried to get off, it didn't work.

"Your sexual attraction didn't just die, it was fucking murdered and then cremated," Erica said with a deadly serious expression—her lips were thinned in a line and her eyes were void of any emotion, facial muscles completely relaxed and freaking scary.

I exhaled sharply, "Thanks."

"It's true," I didn't think she could look scarier but I was proven wrong when a devilish smirk twisted the corner of her crimson-stained lips, "if you needed one more reason to leave him, here's another."

"If only things were that simple..." I drawled.

Erica rolled her eyes, "They are. You're making it difficult."

I glowered at her but remained silent. Maybe I was making things difficult because I was just too comfortable with Jason. The thought of starting over again, finding someone new, and opening up to get to know them so they could get to know me sounded scary. There weren't many prospects, to begin with. Almost everyone I knew was either married or engaged or like Erica—married to her career. She had no plans of getting married. It just wasn't for her. I guess that was why she found it difficult to understand my situation.

Someone bumping into the back of the chair I was seated on jolted me back to reality. I craned my neck until I could see who it was.

The girl stared down at me with an impish yet warm smile as she uttered her apology, "Sorry about that. There's not much room to move," she waved a hand, gesturing to the coffee shop which was filled to the brim with the lunchtime rush.

"It's okay," I reassured her, "no harm done."

And then he appeared at her side, casting her small yet muscular frame in his shadow.

I gulped but my mouth had suddenly dried out so I reached for my ice latte and took a healthy swig, wetting the back of my throat, "Victor, it's good to see you."

Why did my voice sound strained and high-pitched?

He lifted his hands and began signing, "It's good to see you, too, Dea."

Holy shit! Oh my goodness. How can someone signing my name in ASL look so attractive? His large hands moved nimbly and gracefully as he mouthed my name.

I stared at him, dumbfounded and blinking like a moron. He must have thought I was a moron because my brain just upped and left my damn head.

"Uhm, I'm sorry she's not usually like this," I heard Erica pipe, "I'm Erica, her best friend."

"It's nice to meet you," the girl answered, "this is Victor and I'm Saint, his girlfriend."

This had me whipping my head in her direction with my eyebrows practically marrying my hairline. Victor stared down at her with a raised brow before chuckling as if this whole situation ensued for the sole purpose of amusing him.

She was stunning, a perfect match for him with her sandy brown hair and seafoam blue eyes. Her features were nothing short of feminine and soft and she had this warm energy about her, making me feel welcomed even though I had the insane urge to sock her in the jaw with my fist.

I shook my head, dismissing the errant thought. It wasn't like me to experience the simmering jealousy I did which churned my gut uncomfortably.

"Hey, I have to get going. I have a meeting in an hour that I want to prepare for. If it goes well the funding I need for that new project I'm working on might get approved," Erica shoved the expresso she had barely touched away from her, "I'm not even going to try and force that down."

I shook my head humorously, snickering at her once more, "All the best," I said, knowing she did not believe in luck so saying Good luck wouldn't mean anything to her.

"Thanks, see you later," Erica blew me a kiss before pushing up from her chair, gathering her things, and sauntering away with a skip in her step.

"I'm going to go to, I've got to get to work," Saint, if I remembered correctly murmured, "I'll see you at home."

Victor offered her a stiff nod before signing, "Stay out of trouble."

She rolled her eyes and playfully flicked the tip of his nose with her index finger, "I always do, big man."

I tracked her movements as she cut her way through the shop and exited onto the sidewalk with a grin so wide, it hurt my facial muscles just looking at it.

"She seems nice," there was a bitter edge to my tone which surprised me.

Victor rolled his bottom lip between his perfect rows of teeth but I saw the way the corners of his lips twitched upward in amusement. He gestured to the seat Erica had sat in as if asking if he could take it.

"I'm not sure your girlfriend would approve of you sticking around to have a conversation with me," I answered with a childish pout.

Why did I care if he had a girlfriend when I had a boyfriend?

This time, he laughed and it was a guttural sound with rich, dark notes that rumbled in his belly.

I never knew a laugh could sound so beautiful or that it could catch you in its thrall holding you captive with how majestic it was. But his laugh had to be the most joyful and melodious laugh I had ever heard.

He ignored my quip and dropped himself in the seat opposite me before signing with a knowing grin, "I think she will be fine."

There was something about the way his eyes crinkled at the corners paired with the set of his lips that gave me the impression he was hiding something. What, I didn't know.

"I'm going to leave just now anyway," I lied, "I need to be back at the institute," another lie. Today was the one day I wasn't even needed at the institute. I could have continued my work at home.

His eyebrows pulled together and any signs of his jovial nature from seconds ago evaporated. With a heavy grimace, he signed, "You're lying."

I was taken aback by his words and couldn't keep the surprise from flashing across my face like a neon sign, "I'm not," I defended, wriggling in my seat.

He loosened a breath, "If you want me to leave, I will," Victor signed. An emotion I couldn't figure out lit up his oceanic eyes.

Disappointment? Sadness? Frustration? Maybe it was a mixture of all three.

"No," I shook my head, reaching out to place my hand on his. Only, he pulled his hands away, tucking them beneath the table before I got anywhere close to them. This wasn't the first time I noticed that he didn't want to touch me—the last time we spoke he made sure there was ample room between us, "are you a germophobe or something?"

He offered me a single, curt shake of his head.

"Then is it me?" I had to ask, "Because, I've noticed how you evade touching me and it's weird. Is it because we don't know one another? I mean we've only seen each other three times now and the first time we didn't really have a conversation like we did the second. I was pretty much an emotional slut, though. Maybe I shared too much personal information during the last conversation and that's why—"

My rambling was cut off by Victor's hand darting forward and engulfing mine.

I blinked rapidly, trying to overcome the shock that rattled my system. It all happened so fast. First, he was sitting there like some Greek God statue, and next his large hand wrapped around mine like a fuzzy blanket on a cold day. What tipped me off my axis further was the strange sensation that emitted from our skin-to-skin contact.

It felt like an electric current passing from his body into mine.

He pulled his hand away as if I were fire and he had been burned but I couldn't peel my gaze off my hand. Clearing his throat to catch my attention, he signed, "It's not you."

I licked my lips and Victor's gaze tracked the movement. It shouldn't have appealed to me but it did. It made me feel guilty because I hadn't even felt this turned on by the act of sex with my boyfriend last night, "That's good to know."

"How have you been?" He signed, opting to choose a topic that was safe ground for both of us.

I smiled weakly and gave him a little white lie because he wouldn't want to know the truth, "Fine, and you?"

"You're lying again," he called me out.

I glared at him with irritation, "And how do you know I'm lying?"

"I just do," he signed almost aggressively, "your eyes tell me the truth."

I cast my gaze down—I always hated my eyes because of their common, dark color.

Victor then did something I hadn't expected him to do. He leaned half his body over the table and snared the tip of my chin between his thumb and forefinger, lifting my head so my gaze could lock onto his. He settled back in his seat with his pretty blues never leaving mine—holding me hostage.

"Don't hide them," he signed with a warm curl of his lips, "I like them. You have pretty eyes."

A blush crept up my neck and I awkwardly played with the stud earring at the center of my earlobe, "Thank you, no one's complimented my eyes before."

"No one's seen what I see."

It was smooth. Too smooth, especially with the way he moved his hands. It also bordered flirtatious ground which we had no business being on considering we each had relationships of our own.

Yet, I still felt heat creep up my neck and my heart fluttered as if it suddenly learned how to fly within my chest cavity. The right thing to do was change the topic, maybe even walk away but instead, I said, "And what do you see, Victor?"

He didn't just look at me this time. It felt as if his eyes penetrated me, entering into the deepest, darkest parts of my soul that I kept locked away even from myself as he signed, "You're sad but you're trying to do what's right and be happy. You feel guilty for talking to me, or just being in the same room as me but you don't want to leave no matter how much your conscience tells you to. You don't understand why you like being around me. And you do like it."

He rapidly signed and I found it difficult to keep up but I somehow managed.

It left me stunned because everything he mentioned was on point. I did like being in his company and that was weird for me since he was nothing more than a stranger. The last time we saw one another, I had given him a rundown of my family, where I worked, and what I did, and even confirmed where I lived. However, he was vague in his responses, making me realize I was being too open and honest.

"Do you like my company, Victor?"

He didn't have to think about his response, automatically nodding his head curtly.

"Why?" I wanted to figure out if he knew why we felt this way about one another.

His throat worked, adam's apple moving up and down. The action caught and held my attention, making my stomach dip in a familiar way—a way that it shouldn't have reacted for him.

"I can give you the answers you seek," he looked almost indecisive as if he were second-guessing his thoughts but he chose to continue, "but I can't explain it to you without showing you. I'll give you some time to think about it. If you meet me outside this coffee shop on Friday night, at seven, I will give you the answers you want. If you don't, I know what choice you've made and you will never see me again."