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He makes a show of letting out a huge sigh of relief, which makes me laugh. “You?” I ask him.
He shakes his head. “I had a girlfriend in high school, but we broke up after graduation. She didn’t want ties that would hold her back from her future.” He shrugs.
“She’s dumb,” I tell him.
“She’s actually at Harvard.” He chuckles.
“So? Just because she’s book smart doesn’t mean she’s not an idiot,” I tell him pointedly.
“And why would she be an idiot?” he asks me, starting to idly run his pointer finger along the edge of the table.
“Are you fishing for compliments?” I ask, and he laughs again.
“Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Well, not that I can judge your entire character on one unfinished date, but so far it seems like she is an idiot for letting you go,” I say, bracing myself for the impact I know those words will have on him.
He looks at me with a soft smile on his face before he closes his eyes and starts sinking down slightly, then leaning backward slowly to rest his head on the booth behind him. He keeps slouching down until he’s sliding under the booth like he’s melting. I kick him under the table. “Will you stop?”
“You don’t know what you do to me, Ana Reyes,” he says, his eyes still closed as he is ‘mid-melt’.
“You’re so dramatic, gringo.” I laugh and kick him again. He opens his eyes and straightens up, smiling at me. “We’ve known each other for like, five minutes.”
He shakes his head. “No. I feel like I’ve known you forever. Like I was meant to find you.”
I glare at him, not in hostility or accusation, but because I don’t know what to do with my face. I don’t know what to say. It’s not often that I’m rendered speechless.
I’m saved as our cheesecakes come and I discover that they really are the greatest cheesecakes in the world. I finish the whole thing despite being so full from everything I’ve already eaten..
Once we’re finished and back in the car, he starts looking through his phone to play a song. Guitars and drums start pouring out of the speaker but he keeps the volume low so we can still talk as he drives me back to the restaurant where my car is parked.
He parks next to my car, and then looks down to his phone to put a new song on. He turns slightly to look at me.
“What song is this?” I ask him.
A little sheepishly he says, “It’s “First Date” by Blink 182.” I let out a chuckle. He shakes his head, and rubs his hands over his face.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” he says sincerely and so earnestly. I smile at his words.
“Thank you for a one of a kind date that I’ll never forget,” I tell him honestly. I lean closer to him, trying to let him know that I wouldn’t mind a kiss if he wanted to go for it. His eyes widen just a fraction before he leans in slightly to get closer to me. “Wouldn’t mind going on another one, if they’re all going to be as entertaining as this one,” I whisper, leaning closer.
“I’ll make each date better than the last one as long as you keep giving me a chance,” he says, his voice cracking just a bit. My heart flutters at those words and it warms me as much as it unnerves me. I’ve never felt giddy over a guy before. It feels a bit foreign, but it feels good. Right. I stay where I am, just a few inches away from him.
He refrained from touching me tonight. No hands on the lower back to guide me in that bullshit way guys do to have an excuse to put their hands near our ass. No hand brushing, on purpose or accidentally. It’s like he remembered what I said about not touching people I didn’t know.
But now I kind of know him. And now I kind of want him to touch me. So I let him know.
“Are you going to kiss me, Hayden?” I whisper, my mouth a breath away from his.
“I think I’ll die if I don’t,” he whispers back, and I close the space between us and press my lips to his. I wasn’t expecting the current that runs through me at our contact. The toe curling, heart racing warmth that spreads over me. His lips are soft and cool, practiced, as he kisses me and kisses me. His hands come up to cup my face, drawing me closer to him and I let him lead us as we take this step across whatever lines we had and meet each other in a new way. Eventually he pulls away, out of breath.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper. He groans as he leans his forehead against mine.
“I don’t want to rush this, Ana. I want to savor every single second with you,” he says, and I pull back to look at his eyes, about to open my mouth to say he’s being dramatic. “I’m serious. I’m so gone for you, it’s not even funny. One date with you and I’m done for.” He pecks me on the lips once more.
I look at him for a few moments before saying, “What are you doing to me, gringo?” And I lean in to kiss him just one more time, letting the thunderous pounding of my heart fill my ears and the car. In the background someone sings about wanting the night to last forever, and I find myself starting to agree with him.
SIXTEEN
