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“Fair,” Andrew chuckles. “My mom drinks a minimum of a pot a day. Though I’m pretty sure she drinks decaf. Can’t imagine how she would be alive with all that caffeine in her system.” I laugh along with him. “It’s probably just a habit after all these years, though,” he continues.
I nod. “My mom always says that too. Most of her coffee drinking is purely habitual.”
Andrew takes a sip of his water, glancing around the diner. When he sets down the water, he dries the condensation off of his palm with the paper napkin, then offers his hand to me, laying it face up on the table. I rest my palm in his, and our hands naturally intertwine.
“Is it too soon to ask when I can see you again?” he asks. His voice is low, but hopeful. Brown eyes lift up to meet mine, those gold flecks making their appearance again as the sun drifts through the window onto our table.
A loose curl is hanging over his forehead, and my free hand itches to run my fingers through it, pushing it back off his face. “Not at all,” I answer.
A boyish grin pops onto his face as his eyes gleam at my response. “Thank god,” he says. “What does your schedule look like?”
I pull out my phone from my pocket, opening the calendar. I have a few floral arrangements to make this week, and I don’t want to stretch myself too thin, between work, and floral stuff. I swipe open the screen, ignoring the notifications on the screen.
“Let’s see,” I murmur, swiping through my week. “Today I work till five thirty at the diner, and tomorrow I have two floral deliveries. So I’ll start working on those tonight.” I continue making my way through the week, rattling off my schedule, until I look at Friday through Sunday. “I’m off all weekend, including Friday.”
Andrew thoughtfully nods, thinking to himself.
I interject, my heart pounding in my chest. insecurities rising. “Sorry, I’m not usually this busy, I just have been trying to take on more,” I stammer.
“Hey,” Andrew softly says, squeezing my hand. “It’s good that you’re busy. You’re starting your own business. I expected that. I was only thinking through my week, and if I have anything going on this weekend.”
I nod, my pounding heart starting to slow. Of course, Louise pops in at the perfect moment, dropping our plates in front of us.
The steaming food smells so good I want to inhale all of it in one bite. Andrew reluctantly frees my hand, and we both grab our forks to dig in. “What do you think about Friday night?” Andrew questions. “I could pick you up after I’m finished at the shop.”
I nod, shoveling the first bite of biscuit smothered in gravy into my open mouth. At the first explosion of flavor, I don’t bother holding back the moan that I repressed before.
Andrew’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. I cut the moan off immediately, panicking that others might have heard it.
“Oh my god, I’m so embarrassed,” I say, cringing. I drop my fork, pick up my napkin and wipe my mouth with it as I look around, desperately searching for anyone that may have heard it. When my gaze returns to Andrew, he still has that shell-shocked look on his face.
“Holy shit,” Andrew grits out, his jaw clenching tight. “That was the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever heard. I have half a hard on right now.”
“Oh shut up,” I laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m serious,” he groans, tilting his head back to hit the wall behind him. “You eating biscuits and gravy is my new fantasy.” He runs both his hands through his hair, then down his face, before he sits straight.
He shakes his arms out. “Alright, I think I’m good now. No more moaning, or I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”
I laugh, taking another bite of the delectable breakfast. I nearly moan again, this time to purposefully tease him, but hold back.
“So, Friday?” I ask in between bites.
Andrew finishes chewing, nodding aggressively. “Yes, please.”
“You’re eager,” I state, fully aware that I’m dying on the inside of having to wait until Friday to see him again. It hasn’t even been a full twenty four hours since we met for the second time, and already, I’m attached to him. Good lord, I’m in for a ride.
“Sure am,” Andrew agrees.
We finish our breakfast, talking in between bites. He pays the bill, even though I try to pay, reminding him that he paid for bowling last night. He insists, giving Louise a generous tip before leading me out of the still crowded restaurant.
On the drive home, I admire him again. I’m sure he can see me staring, but he doesn’t say a word. He talks the whole time, telling me more stories about his childhood, and brothers. I listen, focused on learning about him, while I take in his facial features. The gentle slope of his nose, the small scar above his right eyebrow, the way he has a bit of stubble growing after not shaving this morning.
A warmth bubbles in my belly, and I don’t try to stop it. How is it even possible to be this attracted to someone? To feel this connected to him after less than twenty four hours?
We pull into my driveway, and the warmth fizzles into a freezing block of ice. I don’t want to say goodbye, but I need to.
I reluctantly climb out of the car, and Andrew does the same, walking me to the garage door.
