The waiter gave me a firm smile then, thankfully, left us in peace.
“He’s so going to spit in our food,” Saylor groaned.
“I’ve come to this restaurant for four years straight.”
“Er…” Saylor nodded slowly. “Awesome. Good for you. Are you saying this is your booth? Or that you’re on a first name basis with the staff?”
“Nobody. Not even Wes, orders a Caesar salad.”
“So that was a test?” She squinted her cute little eyebrows together. Why did everything about her tempt me?
I laughed. “Um no, but after the Caesar salad you’re going to be breathing fire for days. It’s basically the only way to make sure you don’t get kissed. Wes calls the salad the kiss of death.”
“That’s not funny,” she grumbled.
“Thank you!” I slammed the table with my hand. “I say no to death jokes. Bastard.”
At that she grinned. “Well, all death jokes aside, I’m not worried about the kiss-of-death salad.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Sure.” She took a long sip of water and paused to answer, “Because I’m in no danger of getting kissed tonight.”
Waving a flag in front of a bull. That was what she as doing, and she had no freaking idea that she’d just opened the gate. “Oh yeah? Says who?”
“Me.” Saylor laughed. “You got the salad too, buddy. No way am I getting near that mouth of yours.”
Her laugh was infectious. I joined with her, then clinked my water glass against hers. “To the kiss of death and fish.”
She grinned. “To fish.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Getting comfortable with someone like Gabe was risky — especially considering our shaky start. But he was impossible to resist — especially when he was himself — something I noticed he hadn’t been a lot lately. —Saylor
Saylor
“Tell me one scary thing,” Gabe asked once we were in the car driving back toward campus. He’d called Wes to tell him that we’d gone out to dinner, and Lisa and Kiersten were more than happy to go pick up my car for me so he could take me home. I wasn’t sure if that was the girls playing matchmaker or just being nice.
“Oooh, only one?” I teased.
We’d spent three hours at the restaurant — and he’d actually behaved. Had it been Christmas, it would have been a Christmas miracle, like something you’d actually watch on TV. We didn’t fight, the insulting turned to teasing, and honestly it felt good.
Everything except the fact that the more Gabe showed me of himself—
The more I liked him.
I was more comfortable hating him.
“Only one.” He turned briefly toward me and flashed a gorgeous grin. A totally, mind-numbing, rock star grin. He reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Maybe he just had one of those faces, or maybe he was just that gorgeous that my mind was playing tricks on me.
“Performance anxiety,” I answered honestly. “I always mess up when I have to perform my pieces. My hands freeze up and I don’t know. It never fails. I’ll practice for hours on end and still nothing. I always end up messing it up. So I kind of hate large crowds or auditoriums and baby grand pianos.”
“That was like five things.” Gabe pointed out.
“Hey!”
He patted my leg. “I’m kidding, Saylor.”