Lev (Shot Callers 1)

No hesitation. “Okay.”

My smile wide, I blew him a kiss from the door, rushed down the stairs, and ran all the way to Nastasia’s.

What was the process before one went on a date?

I didn’t have a flipping clue, but I knew Nas would.

Nas dressed me in a black dress with a pencil skirt that went to my knees and a high neck that showed none of my non-existent cleavage. Although I was close to my goal weight, I wasn’t quite there yet, but my knees were no longer knobby and I had flesh where flesh should have been. My breasts had yet to catch up with the rest of my body. My butt, however, was doing well.

Knowing how I walked in heels, Nas hooked me up with a pair of black leather strappy sandals, and I wore my white blazer over the top. My hair was left wavy but tamed, flowing down my back. Nas lent me a white clutch to put my phone and lip-gloss in, and I was ready to go.

I waited until five fifty-five before I walked back down to the house. Using the key Lev had given me, I unlocked the front door and stepped inside just as Lev was making his way down the stairs.

My breath left me in a whoosh. I was lucky that I held onto the door handle, or else I would’ve found myself sprawled on the floor in a dead faint.

Lev had found his jeans.

Oh, did he ever.

Jesus Christ, they fit him like a glove. His hair styled nicely, as always, he hadn’t shaved, leaving a nice five o’clock shadow playing at his jaw. The grey sweater he wore, pushed up to the elbows, was formfitting and stylish, and those black jeans…

Oh, God. He looked incredible.

My heart beat faster and my tongue began to swell.

It was hot in here. I fought the urge to fan my face.

I smiled shyly. “Hi.”

His eyes smiled back. “Hello.” The second to last step down, his eyes roamed my body. “You look stunning, Mina.”

“And you…” It was sweltering in here. “In jeans.” My eyes widened as I smiled and breathed, “Wow.”

His cheeks took on a pink tinge. He cleared his throat and asked, “I’m not underdressed, am I?”

Sweet cupcakes, if he changed out of those jeans, I would cry throughout dinner, spilling tears into my meal, and eating them up because I was hungry and not very picky.

I stepped forward and rushed out, “No, not at all. You look…” Sexy as fudge. “…very handsome, Lev.” I went on, “Don’t change.” I was slightly embarrassed when I said, “I like you in jeans.”

He met me at the door, holding his hand out. I took it, entwining our fingers. He looked down at me. “Ready?”

Lev led me out of the house and down the front steps. I let out a restless sigh. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Lev brought us to a little Russian place down an alley in the city.

I was touched. It seemed like he’d made an effort, wanting me to experience some part of him, however small it was.

We held hands until after we seated. Lev asked questions about me, and I answered each of his questions with enthusiasm, only asking him the most basic of questions. I didn’t want to spook him. I’d learned that both his mother and father were Russian immigrants, that Lev liked to play sports but not watch them, that he preferred blackberry jam to all others, that he had cousins in New York who he adored, that he liked to read rather than watch TV, and that he had a double degree in business and mathematics, which he completed at the ripe old age of twenty-one.

We ordered a few different dishes and shared them. Lev insisted we get the stroganoff, which was light and creamy, and the beef was cooked till beautifully tender. Next we ordered the blini, which were thin crepes filled with an array of fillings, from smoked salmon and cream cheese, to sour cream and caviar. Lastly, we got the pelmeni, and they were delicious dumplings filled with minced lamb, garlic, and herbs.

We cleared all the dishes, even though we ordered for six people. And, damn Lev, but even the way he ate was sexy!

Lev reached for the last pelmeni, but must have spotted the forlorn look on my face. He shook his head, his lip might have twitched (or maybe I imagined it), and he placed the last dumpling on my plate.

I ate it with nothing more than a smile, and Lev continued to watch me, a soft look on his face. Once our dishes were cleared, he reached out across the small table, and with a shy smile, I placed my hands in his.

He held them in silence, stroking his thumbs over mine.