“What are you doing now?” she asks, biting her lower lip.
“Um, nothing,” I reply. “Why?”
“Well, I was just going to head upstairs for a quick shower then head out to grab a bite to eat. Would you like to come?”
Totally ignoring her breakfast invitation, I ask, “You live here?” and I point above me.
Madison smiles and nervously nods. “Yes. My stepfather owns the building, and with apartments costing a small fortune in New York, it makes sense to live here.”
I whistle. “The entire building? Wow. I’m impressed.”
But regardless of how impressed I am, there is no way in hell I’m going back upstairs. But I find myself really wanting to accept Madison’s invitation.
She must be able to read my dilemma as she quickly says, “You know what, don’t worry about it. I can’t smell any worse than you do.” She bumps into me playfully, laughing at my pallid expression.
Realizing she’s joking, I instantly relax and bump her back. “Well, Sporty Spice, for that comment, you’re buying.”
“Sporty Spice? Um, Dixon, you really showed your age then,” Madison teases as she drowns her waffles in syrup.
We’re sitting in the smallest diner known to mankind, and to be honest, I didn’t even know it existed. But Madison promised the food was to die for and not to judge its inside by its outer appearance. I try not to read too much into that relevant comment, and rather focus on the fact that this 120-pound girl has enough food in front of her to feed a small starving nation. I have no idea where she puts it, as I highly doubt Madison is a puker.
She senses me watching her and slowly raises her attentive eyes. “What?”
“Nothing,” I reply with a smirk, focusing my attention on sipping my coffee.
“This is why I run every morning,” she explains, adding more salt to her scrambled eggs.
“Every morning? Damn, that’s commitment.”
“I start class at nine, so I’m up early anyway,” she says with a shrug. “I may as well start my day off being healthy, because God knows, as it progresses I’m anything but.” She smirks, picking up her fork and knife, ready to dig into her waffles.
The mention of class has me wondering what she does. “What do you study?” I ask, reaching for the cream cheese.
“I’m at Columbia, studying nursing. Well, I just started a dual degree. Eventually, I would like to end up specializing in midwifery,” she replies, and takes a small bite of her sugary treat.
I’m slightly taken aback, as I really hadn’t given much thought to her occupation. Now that I know what it is, I find myself being even more attracted to her as I know she’s got brains as well as beauty.
“A dual degree? So, a Bachelor and a Master’s of Science?”
“Yeah,” she replies with a coy nod.
“That’s pretty incredible. A dual degree is a lot to take on. You must be a downright genius, or plain crazy,” I respond with a grin.
Madison laughs, and the sound is absolutely wonderful. “Maybe a bit of both. So, how do you know it’s a lot of work?”
I usually hate telling people what I do for work, as I get the same old “who’s the craziest person you’ve ever treated?” and “can you prescribe me some Valium?” each and every time. But with Madison, I know she’ll probably find what I do remotely interesting as we’re in similar fields.
“I’m a psychiatrist,” I confess, hoping I don’t sound like a stick in the mud. “My specialized field is addiction.”
Madison’s eyes widen and she stops mid-bite, shaking her head. “Seriously?” she asks with an incredulous look.
I don’t know whether I should be insulted or not, and it must show on my face as she quickly backtracks. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—that sounded so rude. I didn’t mean it like ‘seriously’ I don’t believe you. I meant it as ‘seriously, holy shit, that’s cool!’” she finishes, her eyes still wide. “I’m actually taking a crash course in psych. I figure it’ll help if I decide to pursue a different field of nursing down the road. So far however, I suck at it. You must be incredibly smart.”
I internally breathe out a sigh of relief. “Well, thank you. Not a lot of people think being a shrink is cool. Or that I’m smart.” I smirk. “So I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Madison nods animatedly. “Hell yes, it’s a compliment, Dr. Dixon.”
I laugh at her comment. “Just Dixon is fine.”
“You don’t look like a doctor,” she randomly professes.
“Once again, thank you?” I phrase it as a question, as I’m not sure what she means by that.
She senses my confusion, and once again quickly clarifies. “I just meant…” Her devilish tongue suddenly darts out to lick away any fallen syrup, while she weighs up her next comment. “I just meant you’re so…young.”
However, the slight pause has me wondering what she really meant to say. I’d like to think the word she really wanted to use was “hot,” but hey, one can dream.
Playing it cool, I run my finger around the rim of my cup and smirk. “Don’t let this orderly state fool you,” I say, poking fun at my unruly appearance.
Madison laughs, and I don’t fail to notice her gaze lingering on my face a little longer than usual. Could it be little Miss Madison is just as impressed by me as I am by her?
This could get really, really interesting, or really, really ugly. It’ll all depend on how I decide to play it.
“So, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?” I innocently ask, taking a bite of my bagel.
Madison looks to be deep in thought, but she shakes her head as if to clear it. “I’m twenty-three.”
I was right. However, her young age just confirms what a vile old man I am, as all I’m visualizing is her tight, round, young ass and perky, perfect tits in the flesh. My eyes drop to her chest, and I scold myself for being so damn obvious, because thus far, I’ve been a total gentleman.
As sad as this is, I’ve actually forgotten what it’s like to just enjoy the company of the opposite sex without thinking of her naked, or wonder what color panties she’s wearing. But with Madison, that’s exactly what’s happened. We’ve been sitting here for—Jesus, I’m not even sure how long—and not once have I thought about sex, or thought about her naked, which for me has got to be some kind of record.
Her company alone was enough stimulation, and I haven’t felt this way since Lily. But just the thought of her ruins my pleasant morning, and I quickly push away my half-eaten bagel.
“You okay?” she asks, and I raise my eyes to meet her gentle concern.
“Yeah, fine,” I lie. I feel like a total sap for letting my ex get to me once again.
Wanting to change the subject, I ask, “So, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but who was the douchebag you were with the other night?”
I really hope my question doesn’t freak her out because I need to know.
“Oh, that was Tim.”
“He’s your boyfriend?” I casually ask, watching her facial expressions.
She surprises me when she laughs. “No way. We went on two dates, and apparently I’m the love of his life.”
“Well, the way he was pawing you, he certainly doesn’t know how to treat the love of his life,” I utter, only just containing my anger.
Madison nods, and as she lowers her eyes, I know I’ve struck a nerve. But I let it go and sip my coffee, while Madison demolishes the rest of her meal in silence. After she’s done eating, she puts her hands to her flat belly and groans.
“You should have stopped me after my third bite,” she says with a smile, the awkwardness from earlier thankfully gone.
“And miss you proclaiming your undying love for French toast? I don’t think so,” I reply, as I dodge a flying creamer.
As I reach for the bill, Madison playfully slaps her hand over mine. I ignore the instant sparks, and raise my eyebrow, wondering what’s triggered her violence.