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“Wow, you really have all the jokes today. Maybe I should check under the sink for a hammer.” I make a joke about the chilling thriller.
“Okay, so maybe not that. How about a classic thriller?”
“Which one? Psycho, The Shining, or maybe Carrie?”
“Have you ever seen Wait Until Dark?” He mentions a thriller featuring Audrey Hepburn from the late sixties. My heart flutters at something as simple as trying to find a movie that we would both enjoy.
I love this about him. Always so eager to please me.
And Lord, does he.
“What’s that?”
“Oh, sorry. Uh, I have to admit that might be one of the few of her films I have not seen.”
“Don’t like scary movies, Sunny?”
“Not really. As a kid, it didn’t bother me as much. But as an adult… I don’t know, maybe because I live alone.”
“Good thing you have me to protect you now.”
But what happens when I don’t?
He grabs the remote and searches for the movie on Prime.
“Remember that when I wake up on your side of the bed again in the morning.”
“I think we both know I wouldn’t mind that one bit.” His tone says he’s joking, but the way he’s looking at me tells a different story. I break eye contact.
“Oh” is all I can manage, my brain too focused on what it felt like waking up in his arms. Once I got over the initial shock, it felt pretty amazing. And very, very warm.
“Can you please hand me some chopsticks?” he asks.
“Okay, don’t make fun.” I hold the paper-wrapped wooden utensils out to him. “But I’m the worst with these.”
“You’re kidding me right now.” The corner of his mouth tips up in a smile.
“Wish I was. I usually end up covered in rice or noodles when I try.” I laugh.
He picks the chopsticks up and rips open the wrapper. “Here, Sunny. I can show you. I’m an excellent teacher.”
“You sure? This would be way less messy if I just use a fork.”
“I don’t mind getting a little dirty.”
Heat spreads throughout my body.
The innuendos are really flying tonight, and we haven’t even made it through the weekend.
“Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got.” So far, I’m convinced that Beau is good at pretty much everything.
He sets the wooden device in the palm of my hand and snaps his own pair at the base and rubs the sticks together.
“Starting a fire there, Boy Scout?”
“Nah, just showing you how it’s done.” He proceeds to demonstrate holding and pinching the sticks and taking a hearty bite of beef.
“Oh, damn.” He groans around the food in his mouth. “So good!”
