Free Web NovelChapter 32: The Confrontation Takes An Unlikely Turn
David’s fingers moved on autopilot, thumb dragging upward in a slow, mindless rhythm as the videos cycled past. TikTok.
He was barely even conscious of any such thing happening around him. The drink which was placed by his side hadn’t even been touched, so much that the ice cube in it had long melted.
He’d switched off the Nendiba feed a while back. Watching the numbers tick was one thing when you had dry powder to move. Right now he had none, so checking it was just voluntary self-torture.
A soft tap landed on the table.
Not a sound — a *tap*. Deliberate. The kind a person makes when they want your attention but would rather not say your name out loud.
David looked up.
Mrs. Walbury stood at the edge of the booth, and for a half-second his brain simply did not compute. She wasn’t in the waitress uniform anymore. Instead — a white long-sleeve shirt, fitted in a way that required no imagination, and a mini skirt that cut off well above the knee. The fabric of the shirt shifted slightly with her breathing, her figure pressing against it in a way that made *tremble* the only accurate verb.
He put the phone face-down on the table.
"You plan on staying here all night?" she asked, one brow lifting just slightly. Not aggressive. More like... testing the temperature.
’Is she— is she asking me to leave?’
"Depends," David said, keeping his voice easy. "You offering better plans?"
Something moved behind her eyes. Not quite a smile yet.
"I want to go home," she said. "Can we just — step outside? Talk there?"
"Sure." He said it simply, no performance behind it. Then he slid out of the booth, reaching over to collect her package from the seat beside him. He held it out toward her in the same motion — casual, unhurried, like it was nothing.
It wasn’t nothing.
"My lady," he said, with exactly the kind of light, mock-formal delivery that required absolutely no commitment. Plausible deniability built right in.
She took the package. Her eyes held his for just a beat longer than necessary as she did, and the corner of her mouth curved — barely, barely — into something that wasn’t quite a smile and wasn’t quite a warning.
"After you..." he gestured at her.
She turned without another word, moving toward the exit. David followed, stepping out of the low amber light of the bar and into the night air as the door swung shut behind them.
The distant hum of traffic faded slowly as they walked, moving down a quieter stretch of the lower side, streetlights flickering overhead — some steady, a few clearly burnt out and left that way, the moon doing most of the actual work lighting the road.
David kept his hands in his pockets, glancing sideways at Mrs. Walbury every so often. She’d gone quiet since leaving the bar, arms wrapped around a small bag, eyes fixed somewhere ahead like she was working something out internally.
"You know you don’t have to be shy," he said, breaking the silence, keeping his tone light.
She glanced at him, brow furrowing. "Shy about what?"
"I don’t know. You just seem kind of tense." He shrugged. "Figured I’d throw you a bone — everyone’s got something weird in a drawer somewhere. I’ve got a couple sex toys myself, if it makes you feel better."
Mrs. Walbury actually stopped walking for a second. "I’m sorry — what?"
"Dead serious," David said, entirely too casual about it. "Not everyone can just own that kind of thing out loud, honestly."
She let out a startled laugh, shaking her head. "Okay, that is — that is not where I expected this conversation to go."
"Confidence is confidence," David said, grinning.
"Clearly." She was still laughing under her breath, glancing at him sideways like she was recalibrating her whole read on him. "You’re a lot, you know that?"
"I’ve been told." He let a beat pass. "Honestly, the guy behind the counter looked at me like I’d personally offended him the whole time I was picking it up."
She nearly choked on her own laugh. "Stop, oh my god—"
They kept walking, the tension easing into something lighter, until the buildings around them shifted — better maintained, cleaner sidewalks, actual working streetlights.
Her apartment complex came into view a few minutes later, a cluster of mid-rise buildings with a keypad-and-buzzer entrance instead of a door anyone could just walk through. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
David slowed as they approached. "This is you?"
The night air between them had gone still.
David stood at the bottom of the stairwell with his hands loose at his sides, watching Mrs. Walbury the way you watch something you’ve decided not to touch.
He cleared his throat.
"Can I ask you something?"
She turned her head slightly, curious in the way someone is curious when they already know the question is going to be interesting. "Go ahead."
"It’s just—" He paused, trying to find the right angle on it. There wasn’t one. "You’ve got everything working in your favour, right? Like objectively. You know that."
Her expression didn’t change, but something behind it did.
"The former hunting career, the family, the—" He gestured vaguely, which was a cowardly thing to do, but he did it anyway. "All of it. Most women would have men falling over themselves. Most men would be too scared to even look at you wrong." He shook his head. "So why do you need a sex toy? It’s not like you can’t find someone to take care of your needs —"
He stopped himself.
She was watching him with an expression he couldn’t fully read — something between amusement and the kind of quiet that precedes something heavy.
"Complicated," she said simply.
"Yeah." He exhaled through his nose. "Yeah, I figured."
She didn’t elaborate. He hadn’t expected her to.
A few seconds passed where neither of them said anything, and the silence was the comfortable kind — the kind that meant something had been understood without needing to be said aloud. David shifted his weight.
"Either way." He met her eyes. "I’m glad I could help tonight. Whatever it’s worth."
Something crossed her face then — brief and real and quickly folded away. She pressed her lips together, just for a moment.
"Thank you, David."
"Good night, Mrs. Walbury."
"Good night."
He held eye contact for a beat longer than he should have, then turned and started toward the stairs, sliding his hands into his pockets. It was a deliberate kind of walk — the sort where you’ve already decided not to look back, and the decision costs you something. fгeewebnovёl.com
He made it three steps.
"David."
He stopped.
His name in her voice. Not sharp — almost careful. He turned around slowly, and she was standing a half-step outside the doorway now.
Pulling out her keys, she shuffled through them, the soft jingling echoing in the quiet corridor until she found the right one.
David stood slightly behind her, hands in his pockets, watching the way the hallway light caught the side of her face.
"You know..." she said, not looking at him yet.
"out of all the times we’ve spent together, I never really took you for a gentleman." She glanced back over her shoulder, something casual in it.
"Honestly, no college kid I’ve met has ever really been one."
David let out a small chuckle, shifting his weight.
"Well... people see things differently." He shrugged. "Everyone has their own opinion of me. I’m just being myself — I don’t really see it as being a gentleman or anything."
"Hmm, I suppose that’s one way to look at it." she said, a quiet smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
The lock clicked open. She pushed the door inward, then turned and held out her hand.
"The package." Her eyes dropped to it briefly. "Thanks for holding it. I really appreciate you not overreacting."
David looked down at it, then back up at her.
"Anything to help..."
A moment soon passed, yet she didn’t move inside. Instead her eyes came back to his face and stayed there a moment longer than felt like nothing.
"Is something wrong?" David added
"No, no." She shook her head.
"Nothing at all." She glanced down the corridor. "It’s just...It’s getting late anyway."
"Yeah... it is."
A beat passed before she leaned lightly against the doorframe, the door half-open behind her, her fingers still resting on the handle. Something in her expression shifted — not much, just enough.
"It’s just." She said it carefully, instantly drawing David’s attention once more.
"I just wanted to know, If you’re not busy, you could come in for a cup of coffee... just so we can talk." A small pause. "If you don’t have anything else to do."
David, on hearing this, instantly translated every possible possibility of what she had just said.
’A cup of coffee? This late? Hehe... I think I know exactly what this is.’
