The Origin Read Free

razor, he found himself wondering why the hell he was trying to impress someone he had no desire to date anyway. He was just going to hear her story, nothing else; he had no plans of seeing her beyond tonight. Leaving the razor in its charger, he dropped the towel on the floor and headed to the bedroom. Originally, he had thought of wearing slacks and a nice sweater, but decided against it. He didn’t want her getting the idea that he gave a flying hoot. Instead, he reached for his well-worn jeans, which lay crumpled on the floor, and pulled out a black AC/DC t-shirt. He pulled on a grey hooded sweatshirt and finished the look with his favorite green military jacket. He didn’t need the mirror to know that he looked like crap, and it was just as well. Maybe Olivia would lose interest if he arrived to dinner looking homeless.
    At a leisurely pace, he pulled on his worn black boots, scuffed from years of pounding pavement and catching bad guys, ran a hand through his short brown hair, and declared himself ready.

2   |   THE WOMAN IN QUESTION
     
     
    Olivia sat at the bar of Sunday Sushi, angled on the stool for optimal view of the entrance. She smiled to herself, remembering the surge of excitement she’d felt upon seeing Daniel Johnson in the bank that morning. In that moment, standing in front of the six-foot-something man with the broad shoulders of a football player, she had felt all of sixteen again. Before he had transformed into a recluse in high school, he had once been one of the most popular boys at school and she, along with all of her friends, had had a major crush on him. Even after the homecoming game accident, long after everyone else had written him off as a nutcase, Olivia had still found him fascinating and beautiful. Seeing him again at the bank after all these years, she had felt relieved to see that time hadn’t marred any of his appeal. In fact, he was more attractive now, having lost all of the immaturity and uncertainty that came with youth.
    As she raised the wine glass to her lips, she saw Daniel enter the establishment with cool confidence and her heart skipped a beat. He was dressed casually, and along with his five o’clock shadow, looked every bit the surly, sexy guy from her memories. She stood up slowly, her legs sweeping over the stool and onto the floor in one graceful movement. Wearing her favorite little black dress from Herve Leroux with the sheer netting above the chest (her “ Maneater Dress” as her friend Cheyenne had called it) and black heels, she knew she wasn’t looking too shabby herself. Her long hair was gathered in a low ponytail with a few loose wisps at the front, and she wore only enough makeup to look effortless and elegant.
    “Hi,” she greeted as she approached him. The bewildered look on his face confirmed how she felt, as his mouth hung agape and his eyes roved over her entire body like she was fireworks on the Fourth of July. “You look good yourself,” she added without hint of embarrassment or annoyance at being lewdly ogled. This was New York after all, where being leered at was a daily affair.
    Daniel swallowed, his grey eyes meeting hers suddenly. “Sorry,” he said, a blush creeping over his collar. She noticed that his skin was fairer than his high school self when he was frequently out in the sun, but the small freckles were thankfully still there. “I’m rusty at this.”
    “Really?” He had been a hermit in his senior year of high school, true, but somehow she’d expected him to revert back to his popular jock ways once he was free from the shackles of his high school reputation. Apparently, she was wrong. “When was the last time you went on a date?”
    He looked away. “Uh, a while.”
    Daniel Johnson was turning out to be a barrel of surprises. “Why is that?”
    But before he had a chance to reply, the hostess walked up and announced their table ready.
     
    Daniel was in major trouble. He hadn’t been on a date since college, and