He sits at the table next to me, paired with a blonde sporting a bob hairdo. I notice he dumped the jacket, his chest firm and broad beneath his shirt. He nods at me in such a slow confident way, it sends an electric current through my veins. I blush and turn away on instinct. Then, sticking to my “up for anything” attitude, I give him another look. This time he smiles and squints like he knows a secret about me.
The bell rings, and he shrugs as if to say “let’s do this.”
My first guy, a stocky redhead wearing a football jersey, flops into the seat across from me. His name tag reads, Cliff. “Hey, sweets. You ready to party?”
Sweets?
“Hi, uh, yeah.” I shrug and glance back to blue eyes to see if he’s watching. This time he’s looking at his “date” and nodding politely, but after a moment, he glimpses over to me as if he knew I’d be looking.
Cliff doesn’t notice he lost my attention to another man as he rambles about working for his father’s fried chicken franchise. I barely say two words through it all before the bell rings. The rules stated no exchanging contact info with the dates, which wouldn’t be a problem with Cliff. We were to do everything at the end via the moderators.
My new mystery man with the dark blues slides into the seat in front of me without saying a word, but his eyes never leave mine. His name tag reads: Aiden. His eyes are even more spectacular close-up, and the five o’clock shadow on his strong jaw makes me hot and itchy in all the right places. The bell rings. I wait for him to say hi, introduce himself, something. But he just stares at me. I’m not about to speak first, so I stare back at my handsome stranger. Thirty seconds go by, a flurry of voices swirling around us like a tornado. Still neither of us speak as the timer ticks away.
3
Hmm.
Maybe he’s waiting for me to thank him for the drinks? This is too much fun so I stay silent. I’ll thank him when he talks.
I cross my arms, lean back in my chair, and raise my eyebrows as if to say, “Well?”
He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall, continuing the staring match.
If that is the way he wants it, I won’t budge either. Another minute goes by, and we fight against our smiles. One corner of his mouth twitches upward, and I think I have him. I imagine myself leaning over, placing a kiss on the corner. He seems to read my mind, grins without showing his teeth. I can’t hold back any longer so I return the gesture. What is happening?
There’s nothing awkward about our connection, and I begin to feel at ease with staring at this man. Like I already know his face. Ease turns to comfort. Comfort to desire. When I notice his chest rising higher, fuller, mine does as well. I slide my shawl off my shoulders before pinning him with a seductive glare. His expression says he’s impressed.
Aiden leans forward, resting his elbows on the table next to his phone. My cheeks flush with his closeness, his scent—spicy and clean—floating across to me. I imagine him leaning farther over, touching me, kissing me. My body heats at the thought just as the bell sounds. Our fun sexy game is over, and I’m left wanting more.
Aiden stands, still connected to my gaze. Don’t go. The thought of going through all these men when the one I want is right in front of me makes my pulse race. He reaches for his cell. I shoot my hand out and cover his, keeping him from picking it up. I slide the phone from beneath his hand
and glance around to make sure no one is watching. I tap his screen and enter my contact info, before handing it to him with more confidence than the desperation I feel. His mouth turns up in a sexy grin.
Aiden moves to his next seat, and I adjust my shawl back into place before receiving my next “date.”
Edgar is a professor who might be in his late fifties. He’s kind of sexy like when Richard Gere wears reading glasses. He speaks with his hands and barely looks at me, but I pretend to be interested in case Aiden is watching.
My phone resting in my lap vibrates. I look down.
Aiden: You’re not interested in that guy.
I quickly reply, hoping no one sees. How do you know?
Aiden: He doesn’t make your eyes light up like I did.
Edgar talks about retirement, then the bell sounds. I type during the switch. That doesn’t mean I like you.
Aiden: You’re smiling now, while reading my text. BTW: lose the shawl. Don’t hide your beautiful body.
Me: Thanks for the drinks…and smiling doesn’t mean I like you.
Aiden: It does. And you just touched your lips.
Me: So. What does that mean?
Aiden: That’s where you want my lips.
Fire shoots to my cheeks but adrenaline and desire keep me going. So anywhere I touch is where I want your lips?