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I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.
“I’m their RC. It makes sense for me to be there.”
I sighed. “Fine.”
“After dinner then.”
“Okay.”
His stern expression melted into a grin. “Good, because I’m taking you on a date.”
My eyebrows shot up. This I hadn’t been expecting. Ian Crawford could be romantic?
As if reading my mind, he cocked his head to the side and sighed. “When will you stop being so skeptical and get that I’m different with you? You make me want to be a good guy. Most of the time,” he added with a smirk.
I smiled and looked down at my lap, aware of all the eyes on us in the cafeteria. Somehow I doubted we looked like two buds having a friendly chat over lunch. My cheeks were flushed and his body language said it all: he was itching to touch me.
“A date would be nice,” I said softly.
He sat back in his seat and bit into a fry. “Get ready to swoon.”
Ian took me off campus for our first date. Unlike me, he wasn’t limited to using the bus—he had his own car. And not just any old beater, but a silver Audi Q5 with black leather interior. With seat heaters. I would do anything for seat heaters.
I’d dressed in my best pair of skinny jeans, boots and a tight black sweater, my hair up the way he liked it. Ian was wearing a dark grey blazer over a white V-neck shirt. It was the most dressed up I’d ever seen him, and he looked good. Damn good.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked as we sped off campus.
“You of course.”
“You better be.” He reached over and squeezed my leg. “These jeans get my approval. Your legs look sexy.”
“Good, I’m glad they meet your standards.”
“The boots too.”
“Noted.”
He flashed me a grin. “You’re feisty today.”
I smiled sweetly. “Maybe because I know you can’t touch me.”
“If you keep up the attitude, I just might change my mind.”
I stuck out my bottom lip and he chuckled.
Outside the sun was setting and the sky was a mix of purple and red. To call it beautiful was an understatement. I pulled out my iPhone and snapped a picture. Then I covertly angled the camera to get a shot of Ian driving. There was something super sexy about the way Ian drove. He drove over the speed limit, but not enough that I felt unsafe, and his reflexes were quick. He drove the way he had sex: commanding, like he knew what he was doing. Even watching him drive gave me panty soup.
Just as I was about to snap the picture, he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. I laughed and punched him playfully.
The restaurant was a small family owned business that served Mediterranean food. Ian had reserved a table for two beside the window which offered us a final glimpse of the sunset before it disappeared.
“Have you been here before?” I asked, looking out at our view in awe.
“It’s one of my favorite restaurants.”
The light was low and a single candle flickered in front of us. Ian’s green eyes were on me and as usual in the semi darkness, they appeared to glow. Also like usual, I heated and looked down at the menu. I could never maintain eye contact when he stared at me like that.
A young and pretty server with blonde hair down to her waist appeared. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked Ian.
