“This, of course, is for you,” he said, handing me the flower.
It goes without saying, I gushed, practically melting in my own pile of fairytale-like bliss. “A single red rose, huh?”
He pulled out my chair. “Yep, and don’t think I’m not aware of its significance.”
We breezed through most of the delicious chicken fried rice and wonton soup meal with flirtatious small talk, before plunging deep into more personal topics.
“What Harper did to you, the cheating, it pretty much sucks. I didn’t mean to minimize how awful that was by sort of laughing when you told me.”
He stroked his jaw with the pad of his thumb. “You didn’t minimize anything. Truth is, it was kind of funny, especially the look on her face when she got caught. What pissed me off was the time I’d wasted being with her when I could have, should have, been with you.”
I swallowed, easing past the bubble in my throat, opting to stay silent, unsure of how to respond to that.
“No more talk about Harper. What’s done is done, okay?”
I nodded, then took a sip of water, thinking I’d be better off pouring the cool liquid over my head.
“You and I already know so much about each other, but I’d like to talk about stuff we don’t know. Is that all right?” he asked.
“Sounds good to me, although given we’ve known one another since we were kids, there shouldn’t be too much left to discover.”
We dabbled in relationship topics, like the number of kids we each wanted, career aspirations, questions about loyalty and honesty, only to discover we’d already known all those answers.
Lucas ladled more of the wonton soup into my bowl, then his. “Okay. Here’s something I truly don’t know about you. The other night you started to tell me who you were saving your virginity for back in high school. Mind telling me who?”
My stomach churned. I knew he’d come back to that eventually, and part of me also knew I would have done the same thing. Letting out a deep breath, I spilled the tea like it was everybody’s business. “Back then, I wasn’t saving my v-card for anyone in particular. I was saving it for marriage.”
“Marriage?” His brows climbed in surprise. “And, are you still saving it for then? For after you walk down the aisle?”
Lips pursed, I decided to toy with his mind. “Yes, absolutely no sex for me until my wedding night.”
“Then we’d better book a trip to Vegas and get it done,” he quipped, quick to not fall for my bullshit.
We were quiet for a few moments after that, studying each other as we finished off our soup. It felt good, even if nothing was said, his company more than enough.
“What we haven’t talked about is sex.”
I nearly choked on my slurp of soup.
“I want to know the number of guys you’ve slept with.”
Caught off guard, I said, “If I tell you, will you tell me how many chicks you’ve been with?”
He knocked back a swig of water then nodded. “Yep. You go first.”
“Two.”
He scoffed. “Two? That’s it?”
“Yes. Both in college—don’t you dare ask who—and neither of them gave me an orgasm.”
His lip curve was all cynical. “Okay. Two. And too bad about the orgasms, though I’m looking forward to giving you your first.”
“Oh, I’ve hadplentyof orgasms, thank you very much. All self-induced, but still,” I huffed with a sense of woman-power pride.Go me.
“Right…it’s not the same,” he said, laughter in his voice. “I’ve jacked off plenty of times and, while it gets the job done, nothing compares to the real deal.”
All that talk about sex and orgasms wasn’t good for someone whose nights had been filled with a series of wet dreams. Looking to scurry off the subject, I said, “Okay. I spilled. Now it’s your turn.”
