The silence between us grows heavy, oppressive, like a thick fog that settles over everything in its path. I keep my eyes averted, focusing on the intricate patterns of the tablecloth, anything to escape the intensity of his. Minutes tick on and I try desperately to ignore how he keeps tracking me between bites, clinical as usual yet different somehow. I continue to munch through the silence, driven by hunger and the need to avoid his gutting stare.

I’m far more ravished than I realize, finishing every last bit of food I claimed. Too soon, I clear my plate, leaning back with a small sigh.

“Are you satisfied?” Frost asks. Somehow that question feels extremely charged, even though he’s clearly talking about the dinner we just ate.

I have to swallow around an invisible sweet potato chunk before rasping, “Yes.”

I reach for the pitcher, too close to him for comfort, but he interrupts my attempt. “Wait twenty minutes before any drinking water. Give your food a little time to go down before you start diluting your stomach acid.”

My hand retracts slowly, a strange sensation twisting my stomach that has nothing to do with acid or hunger.

You need to be logged in to view the rest of the content. Please . Not a Member? Join Us

Leave A Comment

Please Login to Comment.

I accept that my given data and my IP address is sent to a server in the USA only for the purpose of spam prevention through the Akismet program.More information on Akismet and GDPR.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.