Alec is my ex-boyfriend of not that long. We did meet outside of the movies while I was waiting on a friend, he struck up a conversation, asked me out, and I said yes. He seemed genuine, and kept that charade going for about two months until the realization hit that he’s just playing games until he can get in my pants. This is when I told myself not to fall for pretty-boy types. Alec is the reason I don’t trust men who should be on the cover of a magazine. Yet, Liam might be hot as fuck, but he’s nothing like Alec. He’s been honest every step of the way, and has told me stuff about himself without me having to drag it out of him.
Romantic comedies have girls in a daze to find their perfect man, and some of them even show a couple falling in love over the course of two or three days, but that’s not reality. Especially with my history, I need to be careful. Even with Liam.
My eyes wander, drinking him in as he eats without a care in the world. Is it weird that I find more attractive because he doesn’t shovel food into his mouth? I can’t stand people who eat that way. One of the worst things about eating in public, having to see everyone else eat, and even worse when you can hear that. Smacking is a no for me. I can’t be with someone that does that.
“What?” he says, lifting his fork in the air. “Something on my face or?”
I laugh, and shove a piece of steak in my mouth before he’s onto me. Stop watching him eat, creep. He goes back to eating and I try to check him out without drawing his attention. And believe me, it’s hard. His eyes keep locking with me.
“Okay, seriously, why do you keep staring at me?” he asks, dropping his fork down on his plate causing a bang.
I look around, and lean in. “You really want to know?”
He nods.
“You look sexy as fuck when you eat. There I said it.” I throw my hands up in the air with no shame, because what do I have to lose? One thing I know, be yourself from the get go, because falling in love with someone who is pretending is worse than being dumped via email.
“You should see me eat dessert,” he says, picking up the menu to gaze at the options. “I’m thinking chocolate cake, you?”
I laugh awkwardly because all I can think about is him, drizzled in chocolate, and me having the pleasure of licking it off.
“I had something else in mind, but not tonight.”
Yes, I’m old-fashioned when it comes to sex, and it can ruin a good thing if done too soon, and with the way things are going, no need to do that.
He winks at me, and then orders the cake anyway.
My hands are in my lap, fingers fidgeting, wondering if he thinks I’m a total loser now. Do I regret tonight? Hell, no. I’ll never find someone if I hide out in my house all the time.
“So, what are you doing tomorrow?” he asks, taking a sip of his wine and then setting it back on the table in front of him.
“Well, I don’t know yet. Depends.”
Okay, so I’m trying to see if he is going to ask me out again. Sure, I might have made some off the wall comments tonight, but it’s been wonderful. It let me see the humorous side of him, which is just my type. Please ask me out again.
The waitress brings the chocolate cake with two forks, and his eyes lock on mine again. This time there’s a smile on his face as he takes the fork, cuts a piece and so sexily puts it in his mouth. Ignore the inappropriate feeling. You are not going to sleep with him tonight.
“So, what do you think? Eating cake is much hotter right?”
I laugh, nod, and then pick up the other fork and we devour the piece of cake without much hesitation. It is the moistest piece I’ve had in a long time, so compliments to the chef or baker. After it’s gone, my hands fall back in my lap, as I wait to see what he says. He might want to do something else after this, or he might just want to take me home. Hell, at this point, I’m okay with either. No, you’re not. Go home alone. Don’t sleep with him yet.
The voice inside my head is agonizing, and I wish I could just shut it off, but it’s the better version of myself, trying to keep me from doing something I’ll regret. Sure, he might fuck my brains out tonight, but what if he didn’t call me tomorrow? Then I’d feel like shit, dumb for sleeping with him, and back to square one. Inner me is right.
He examines the check, slips a hundred dollar bill into the billfold, and stands up, me following his lead, so his hand falls to the small of my back again, before we pass the host stand, out the front door, and wait for the valet.
“I had a wonderful time tonight. Work comes fast, so I gotta get home, but would you still be interested in going out with me again?”
Is he crazy? Who in their right mind would say no? Liam is the closest thing to perfect I’m going to find, and on top of that, he wants to date me. I’m keeping him close, because if he’s good in bed, too, it seals the deal.
His jeep pulls up in front of his, and we get inside, his right hand resting on my thigh. It only makes me thing of everything I’d love for him to do to me all the way home. Like straddle him in the driver seat and take exactly what I so desperately need, or him throwing me up against my door and screwing my brains out making me come multiple times. He clears his throat which brings me back to reality and I realize he can feel my thigh trembling. Crap.
“Everything okay?” he asks, lightly brushing his fingers over my inner thigh.
“Yeah, perfect.”
This is usually when things get awkward. The end of the date, when we walk up to the front doorstep, and neither know whether the other wants to kiss. I do, damn it. Kiss me.
“So, I had a great time tonight,” he says, standing with his hands inside his pockets.