Chapter 60: On the Rocks

Chapter 60: On the Rocks

The chandelier above us sparkles like a thousand tiny stars, casting a warm glow over the pristine white tablecloth. I can’t even try to pronounce the name of this swanky Boston restaurant, let alone afford a glass of water here. ‘Before I got my money, at least.’ Erica’s throaty laugh draws my attention back to her piercing blue eyes.

“Isn’t this much nicer than the Olive Garden or the Cheesecake Factory?” she asks, a smirk playing on her full lips.

I nod, fighting the urge to tug at my collar. “Yeah, it’s... something else.” My eyes dart around the room, taking in the sea of designer dresses and power suits. Even in this tailored ensemble, Erica had secretly commissioned for me months ago, I feel like an imposter.

“You look uncomfortable, darling,” Erica observes, her tone softening as she reaches across the table to grasp my hand. Her touch sends a familiar shiver down my spine.

I force a smile. “Just feeling a bit out of place, that’s all.”

‘Like a rabbit in a den of wolves.’

Erica’s grip tightens slightly. “Nonsense. You belong here with me, Jason. Always.”

There’s an edge to her voice that thrills me. I can’t help but wonder if she’d hunt me down if I tried to leave. The thought is comforting in this alien environment.

“I know,” I reply, meeting her gaze. “It’s just... different from our usual spots.”

She leans in, her blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. “Different can be good, you know. Especially when you’re with the right person.”

As if on cue, a waitress materializes at our table, her crisp white uniform a stark contrast to the dimly lit ambiance. She’s all poise and professionalism, but I catch a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as she glances between Erica and me.

“Good evening,” she says, her voice as smooth as the silk napkins. “Would you like to start off with some drinks?”

Erica leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll have a glass of milk and a Manhattan,” she declares, her tone brooking no argument. The waitress blinks, clearly thrown by the unusual combination, but recovers quickly.

“Certainly, madam. And for you, sir?”

I feel Erica’s eyes boring into me, a mix of challenge and amusement dancing in their blue depths. My mind goes blank, the extensive wine list we’d perused earlier evaporating from my memory.

“Uhhhh...” I stutter, my cheeks burning. I look to Erica, silently pleading for help.

Erica’s expression softens, a flicker of guilt passing over her features. She turns to the waitress, her voice taking on that commanding tone that never fails to make my knees weak.

“He’ll have your fruitiest drink,” Erica announces, then adds with a wicked grin, “Make sure it’s a double. I want to get fucked tonight.”

The waitress’s eyes widen to saucers, her professional facade cracking like fine china. Her mouth opens and closes a few times, reminding me of a fish out of water. I can’t help but chuckle at Erica’s brazenness, a warmth spreading through my chest that has nothing to do with alcohol.

“Hell, make it a triple,” I add to make it seem like Erica isn’t a creep. The waitress’s eyebrows shoot up even further, but she recovers quickly, nodding as if this is just another Tuesday night for her.

“Right away,” she says, her voice only slightly strained. As she turns to leave, I catch a glimpse of her shaking her head, no doubt wondering what kind of circus act just rolled into her section.

The moment she’s out of earshot, Erica’s hand darts across the table, her fingers intertwining with mine. Her touch is electric, sending little sparks dancing up my arm.

“Happy five-month anniversary, darling,” she purrs, her blue eyes gleaming with a mix of affection and mischief.

My brain short-circuits. Anniversary? Five months? The realization hits me like a ton of bricks, and I feel my face drain of color.

“I... I completely forgot,” I stammer, guilt washing over me in waves. How could I have missed something so important?

Erica’s expression darkens for a moment, a storm brewing behind those piercing eyes. “Usually, men are supposed to be the ones that remember these things,” she says, her voice tight with annoyance.

I shrug with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, you know, from my perspective, it’d be like if a girl could remember all the dates here. Usually, the boys in my world forget. Granted, probably not most.”

Erica’s eyes narrow, her annoyance palpable. “I do remember the dates, though, Jason. All of them.”

“You heard me,” she says, her voice low and husky. “I wanted to give off mommy vibes. For you.”

I feel my cheeks heat up, a mix of embarrassment and unexpected arousal coursing through me. Erica leans in closer, her blonde hair falling like a curtain around us, creating an intimate bubble in the midst of the crowded restaurant.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you’re... you know, sucking my nipples,” she continues. The casual way she says it as if discussing the weather, reminds me of how different this world is. “I know you have a thing for boobs, even if people here don’t get it. And I like it when you call me momma...”

She trails off, a hint of vulnerability creeping into her expression. “So I thought, hey, what’s more motherly than milk, right? Figured you’d find it hot, watching me drink it.”

‘BUT MOMS DON’T DRINK THEIR OWN MILK!’ My Mind palace has becoming very messy as of late with all the table flipping.

I’m speechless for a moment, touched by her misguided but earnest attempt to appeal to what she perceives as my desires. The fact that she’d go to such lengths, even risking public embarrassment, just to make me happy... it’s oddly endearing.

A slow smile spreads across my face. “That’s... actually really nice, Erica,”

A slow smile spreads across Erica’s face, her eyes twinkling with a mix of relief and mischief. “Well, I aim to please,” she purrs, reaching out to trace a finger along my jawline. “Though I have to admit, I was hoping for a bit more of a... reaction.”

I can’t help but chuckle, shaking my head in amazement. “Oh, trust me, you’re getting a reaction. I’m just processing it all. The fact that you’d order milk in a fancy restaurant, risk looking silly, all to appeal to what you think I’d like... it’s honestly incredible.”

Erica preens a little at my words, her posture straightening. “Well, when you put it that way, I do sound pretty awesome,” she says with a wink.

I lean in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “You know what? I think I pushed it a bit too far with all my questions. I should have just appreciated the gesture from the start.”

To my surprise, Erica’s face falls slightly. “No, no,” she says, shaking her head vigorously. “The restaurant fucked it up by putting ice in it. That ruined the motherly vibes completely.”

I blink, taken aback by her vehemence. “Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, think about it. What kind of mother serves ice-cold milk? It’s supposed to be warm and comforting, not like you’re drinking from a glacier. The ice totally killed the mood I was going for.”

I lean in closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So you expected them to serve you warm milk? Maybe you have like a warm milk spell you could cast on it yourself?”

Erica’s eyes go cold, and her posture stiffens. “I told you not to bring that up outside the house,” she hisses, her voice sharp as a knife’s edge.

But something in me refuses to back down. Maybe it’s the fruity concoction coursing through my veins, but more than likely its that i’ve already donned the sherlock cap once this dinner. Can i even take it off now?

“I’m just starting to doubt it, Erica,” I say, my words tumbling out in a rush. “You haven’t cast any spells, no cauldrons, no potions. I’m just not sure you’re...” I pause, glancing around before leaning in even closer, my lips nearly brushing her ear as I whisper, “A witch.”

Erica’s eyes flash with a manic intensity, her pupils dilating until they nearly swallow the blue. The chandelier light catches in her irises, making them shimmer like the surface of a turbulent sea. Her nostrils flare, and I can see a muscle twitching in her jaw as she clenches her teeth.

“If I say I am a fucking witch, then I am a fucking witch,” she snarls, her voice low and dangerous. The air around us seems to crackle with tension, and I swear I can feel the temperature drop several degrees. “Since when did you start doubting my words, Jason?”

Her fingers dig into the tablecloth, knuckles turning white. For a moment, I’m convinced she’s going to flip the table over, sending our drinks and fine china crashing to the floor. But beneath the fury in her eyes, I catch a glimpse of something else. A desperate longing, a need for me to believe her, to accept her completely.

My heart clenches at the sight. I reach out, gently prying her hands from the tablecloth and enveloping them in my own. Her skin is burning hot as if she’s running a fever.

‘She believed me despite my insane story. She really could be a witch I suppose.’

“I’m sorry for doubting you,” I say softly, rubbing small circles on the backs of her hands with my thumbs. “I shouldn’t have questioned you like that.”

The tension drains from Erica’s body, her shoulders sagging as she lets out a long, shuddering breath. Relief washes over her features, softening the hard lines of anger.

I squeeze her hands gently, meeting her gaze. “I believe you, Erica,” I say, then hesitate before adding, “But god forbid you weren’t a witch, I want you to know that I can help you with whatever you feel you need to do. Whatever’s going on, whatever you’re dealing with, I’m here for you.”

Erica’s expression shifts, her eyes taking on a mischievous glint that sends a shiver down my spine. She leans in close, her scent enveloping me in a heady cloud of roses and something darker, more primal. Her lips curve into a smile that’s equal parts alluring and terrifying, like a predator eyeing its prey.

“Oh, honey,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry. She places her hand over mine, her touch electric. Her skin seems to radiate an otherworldly warmth, and I swear I can feel a faint pulse of energy thrumming beneath her fingertips. “I really am a witch.”

“And I promise,” she continues, her voice taking on an eerie, echoing quality that seems to resonate in my very bones, “I will get Riley where she needs to go.”