Dream Maker (Dream Team 1)

It was then, proving he could be a decent guy, or at least he could pretend to be one, he’d shared that on any normal first date that was going to last at least six hours, for some of it, we’d be engaged in activities that didn’t require us carrying on a conversation to get to know each other better.

I ignored his double entendre after he suggested we eat pizza while we watched a movie.

I could use a reprieve from his attention, so I’d jumped on that with barely veiled enthusiasm.

Something he found amusing, and didn’t hide, so I hid how I liked that I amused him.

After I agreed, I ignored the squishy, warm feeling I felt when he asked if I’d seen any of the John Wick movies, saying he’d seen them all, but wouldn’t mind watching them again.

I’d seen them all.

And wouldn’t mind watching them again.

This indicating we might have the same taste in films, which, for me, was huge.

I then was forced to converse with him while icing my forehead and alternately sipping the beer he’d brought me.

During this, I learned his parents were still together, he had a younger sister, they all still lived back in Minnesota where he’d grown up, and his younger sister was imminently marrying a guy Mag was not altogether fond of.

He did not dive deep into that.

He also shared, not surprisingly, he was a high school football star who a couple of colleges had wanted to give a scholarship.

But as he had not been “super hyped to spend another minute in a classroom,” he’d gone against his parents’ wishes and enlisted in the Marines.

However, parlaying this information changed his affect so much, seeing it manifest itself in pretty much every inch of his frame, specifically his expression, I felt my stomach twist.

He did not delve deeply into that either.

This instead led him to ending the conversation, rising from his chair, checking my bump, muttering, “I think we kicked the swelling,” and thus, he took away the ice.

All the way.

Meaning, he took it to the kitchen and dealt with it.

I didn’t have to move.

Shortly after, the pizza arrived.

Totally 1987, Mag refused to allow me to give him any money to pitch in for the food.

Though mostly sweet, he only argued for a couple minutes about me renting the movie.

I did not keep a normal, healthy schedule. My stripper work started at seven at night, ended at two thirty in the morning, and the various other jobs, both paid and unpaid, that I had besides kept me on the go.

So, in the end, it was fortunate that Mag decided not to invade my space on the couch and instead eat his pizza and watch the movie in my armchair, because I fell asleep on my couch.

Mag woke me by calling my name, and when I opened my eyes, I saw his eyelashes because he was again bent close to me.

Thus ensued another squishy feeling.

“Sorry, babe, we gotta get going,” he said quietly. “It’s ten and we need to swing by my place, get my gear, get you kitted, and I gotta have time to recon that facility. I’ve never been there before.”

I didn’t get a chance to ask what getting me “kitted” meant or apologize for falling asleep on him.

That said, he didn’t seem upset I had.

He seemed mellow and relaxed, and I didn’t want to, but I liked that he seemed that way with me in my space after only knowing me a couple of hours, some of that time I’d been sparring with him, some of it making an idiot of myself, some of it asleep.

He continued speaking.

“You’ll have to be seen going in alone, so we need to take two cars. You can follow me to my place.”

With that, he took my hand and tugged me out of the couch.

I then drowsily went about the business of putting on my shoes that I’d obviously kicked off in my sleep, donning my blazer, grabbing my phone, bag and keys, and mindlessly swiping on another coat of lip gloss.

Though I became mindful of this when I noticed Mag watching me do it, and he was watching appreciatively.

I tucked my lip gloss in my bag, followed him out, locked my door and then we got in our respective vehicles and I followed him to his place.

He guided me to guest parking, parked somewhere else, then joined me at my car and took me up to his condo in LoHi.

I was coming back to myself, digging out from under all the shit that was clouding my brain, and during the drive, I’d realized my mistake in sharing with him all the things I’d shared, primarily about my family.

I should have been niceish, but aloof in a way that could be construed as borderline impolite, which no man would want, instead of mysterious, which I figured a man like Mag might take as a challenge.