“Deal. Let’s order actual food and then get started,” I say happily as she takes the first bite of her wings.
For five minutes, the two of us sit in silence enjoying the rest of the wings after ordering our food. She’d ordered a fried chicken sandwich and fries that I totally would’ve ordered too, if we didn’t have strict diets. So instead, I opt for grilled chicken and rice with broccoli.Yum.
As the waitress approaches with our food, setting it down in front of us, I take a second to observe Cleo.
She twirls her rings a lot when she’s uncomfortable. It was something I noticed in class and last week at the party. She’s doing it now as she analyzes her plate, though I can’t see her hands. I have a feeling that the small ring is being fiddled with.
My gaze peruses her for longer than necessary and she shifts once again, crinkling her nose.
“Why’d you say we’re going on a date?” she asked, stupefying me for a moment.
WhydidI say that? I mean a date with Cleo would be nice but I don’t do dates… I’m more of a 'meet in a bar and never see each other again’ kind of guy.
It’s easier that way. Less obligations, and whatnot. But staring at the girl in front of me makes me feel…weird.I act differently around her, and I want toknow why. So instead of shying away from the conversation, I lay on a smirk and lean closer to her.
“Is that your first question?” I ask, meaning to sound teasing but my tone is huskier than I'd wanted.
I don’t think the sugar plum princess will take the bait. But then a small glimmer in her eyes and slight curving of her lips draws me in.
“Was that yours?” she taunts, batting her lashes; my heart stutters but before I can lose my confidence, I pluck one of the crisp fries from her plate and smile.
“No. My first question is why did you run off that night at the party?” I ask, taking a bite of my chicken and sighing as the savory flavors melt on my tongue.
Doug deserves the world for this one piece of chicken alone. My goodness…the tanginess of the lemons mixed with the herbs—
She coughs dryly. “You sure know how to start a conversation.”
Cleo smiles shyly, her arms moving fast under the table more than likely twisting her rings. She takes a bite of her sandwich before chuckling, running a hand over her face.
“Blake, I don’t do hookups, or hockey players, If I’m being honest. That night was partially due to a lot of liquid courage and partially due to you being somewhat attractive.” She laughs again before taking a sip of her refilled Shirley Temple.
Somewhat?I’msomewhatattractive? I don’t know if that’s a joke or she’s “somewhat” blind. I’ve seen her squinting in the lecture hall maybe once or twice, so I probably shouldn’t rule it out.
Cleo snickers as she eyes my features, my jaw agape with raised brows.
“Don’t take it to heart, Boy Scout.” She gives me a small smile, leaning back into the booth.
“Oh, I am. Consider my heart in mourning of my attractiveness on the impossible meter of Cleo Jones’ heart.”
At that, Cleo lets out the most guttural bark of laughter I’ve ever heard from a woman. I smile as she lets herself be free, laughing with her head thrown back without remorse.
It’s liberating to be around a woman who will let herself simply be. My sister and mother are always on ten and I love them for it. But sometimes it can be exhausting knowing that they’re constantly “on stage” whether metaphorically or physically.
I love the women in my life to death but this feeling of complete euphoria from another person’s being is astounding.
And as for the women that I tend to take to bed, they’re more worried about pleasing the name Blake Wilder than fulfilling themselves and me. I hadn’t known how exhausting it truly was until the woman in front of me let out the most melodic yet chaotic laugh I’d ever heard.
I smile as Cleo reels herself back in, she looks me over with eyes filled with mirth and then frowns as they wander to my plate. Her lips curve downward as she sighs.
“Sorry he has you guys on such strict diets…I’d tried to get him to ease up when Jace first told me about it a year ago.” Almost immediately my mind wanders back to Cleo and Jace and how close the two of them truly are.
He’d only given me a few details about her, even after I pestered him about her after the party. His vagueness alerted me of just how close the two of them may have been because if there was one thing Jace Heart was not, it was vague. He was more of an open book with details and pictures of wonky drawings kind of guy.
“As for your level on my scale, let’s just say you’re okay on there. Obviously, Eren Marlowe is at the top.” She shrugs.
“He’s old enough to be your dad!” I try but Cleo isn’t hearing it as she waves me off.
“Eren is 26, that’s nowhere near Dad. Besides, we’re getting off topic. It’s my turn to ask a question.” Her eyes are wicked as she peers at me from the rim of her cup, they dance with mischief as she takes a sip.
