“It sounds like it would be a lot to juggle.”
He nods in agreement, taking a large swig of wine. Did that question make him uncomfortable? I was just making conversation. He told me I could ask him anything.
“I didn’t mean to get personal. I know . . .” I search for the right words. “I know this weekend—”
“It’s fine, Tara.” He puts his hand over mine. “I don’t have a problem with getting personal.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. It’s part of the reason I wanted to take you out. I enjoy your company as much as I enjoy your body. I just wasn’t prepared to jump into the subject of family right off the bat.” He chuckles, his warm brown eyes catching the light off the hurricane candle.
“Sorry. I guess the conversation just took a weird turn.”
“Don’t be sorry. Go ahead. Ask me anything you want. I’m an open book.”
As confidently as he says that, some little part of me is skeptical about how true that is. No one is an open book. We all have our secrets. Good, bad, and indifferent. But I take the opportunity for what it is and decide I want to get to know CJ better, even if it is just superficial information.
“What do you do when you’re not working or hiding fromKayne?”
“I guess that depends on where I am. You pretty much saw my life in Hawaii. Beach, surfing, hanging out. I ski when I have the opportunity, and I just got into rock climbing.”
“You’re an all-around jock.”
“I work in an office most of the time. I like to take advantage of the outdoors as much as I can.”
“I can understand that. I’ve always wanted to learn to snowboard.”
CJ stays silent, and I know exactly why that is. There are no promises of tomorrow at this dinner; it’s only the here and now. It makes my heart heavy, but I also know that’s just the way it is.
“My turn,” CJ says just as the oysters are placed on our table. I inspect them. They look appetizing and appalling all at the same time as they sit on a bed of ice and lettuce with lemon wedges and a dollop of horseradish.
“I don’t know if I can eat one of those.” I crinkle my nose.
“You definitely can. After you answer my question.” He takes a shell and places it on his plate. “I know you study music.” He picks up a small forkful of horseradish and dabs it on the oyster. “But what are you planning to do with it once you finish school?” He squeezes some lemon onto it next.
“Um,” I reply distracted as he picks up the oyster and brings it to his mouth. “Teach,” I say. “It’s not my passion, but it will pay the bills.”
“Sensible,” he answers right before he tips his head back and allows the oyster to slide into his mouth. “What is your passion?”
“Music is my passion. But there’s not many job opportunities that pay. So, I figured if I can at least teach, I will still be able to enjoy what I love.” I have loved music for as long as I can remember. It’s like I was born with it ingrained in me. My earliest memory is standing on my parents’ bed with an audience of stuffed animals belting out “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
“Makes sense.” CJ picks up another oyster and repeats thehorseradish and lemon routine. “Your turn.” He holds it up to my lips, and I inhale a stinging whiff of the horseradish. I’m not sure I can do this. “Come on, Tara. Be as adventurous outside the bedroom as you are inside.”
Using my sexual prowess against me is so low.
I open my mouth.
“You know oysters are an aphrodisiac,” CJ enlightens me as he feeds me my first ever oyster. “Don’t chew, just swallow. I know you’re good at that.”
I could smack him, but I am experiencing strange textures and tastes in my mouth at the moment. It’s not horrible. It’s not great either. I swallow quickly and let my taste buds register the new flavors.
“Not so bad?”
“Not too bad,” I admit.
“Try another one?”
“You first.”
