I was on a date. The bill came, and the waitress looked at my date and said, “Sir, your card was declined.”
He went pale. As we stepped outside, she grabbed my arm and whispered, “I lied.”
Then she slipped the receipt into my hand.
I turned it over. Scrawled in frantic handwriting were just two words:
BE CAREFUL. “You okay?” he asked, glancing back.
I forced a smile. “Yeah… just need the bathroom.” I ducked back inside. The waitress was near the bar.
When she saw me, her eyes widened. “What is this?” I whispered, holding up the receipt. She leaned in.
“You don’t know him, do you?”
My stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”
She glanced around. “He brings different women here.
Always acts broke. Some end up paying. One came back crying last week—said he stole from her.
She let him stay at her place. Her laptop and jewelry disappeared.”
I stared at her, speechless. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I didn’t know how else to warn you.”
I thanked her and walked back out, climbed into Deacon’s car. He didn’t notice my silence. Just kept talking—his gym routine, a startup idea, how his ex was “too clingy.” I nodded, watching the city blur past, wondering how much of this was rehearsed.
When he dropped me off, he leaned in. “Second date?”
I smiled faintly. “I’ll text you.”
He drove off, still grinning.
I stood on my porch, heart pounding. Part of me wanted to block him and forget it ever happened. But another part—the stubborn part—needed answers.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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