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“And horse porn,” I pointed out, then avoided the sour cream I was about to dip my food into. Nope, I couldn’t stomach it with the words horse porn still hanging in the air.
“Thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.
“If it makes you feel any better, I just put myself off anything creamy.” I gagged when I looked down at the queso I’d been planning to add to my plate once I’d finished my rice.
I was weird when it came to Mexican food. I divided it up into groups and chose my sauces and dips accordingly. Queso wasn’t compatible with what I’d just been eating, so I’d saved it until I was finished. Now, it wasn’t compatible with my gag reflex.
“Adrienne,” he growled. “Now I can’t eat the good shit.”
“Blame your career! It’s ruined my Mexican food mastication tactics.”
There was silence, and then he put his plate down next to him and adjusted so he was facing me. “Your Mexican food what?”
“Mexican food mastication tactics. Why?”
He looked from the food back up to me. “You really like it that much?”
I was confused. “Who doesn’t?”
“I’m not sure they like it to the same degree you do, baby.”
“So, you’re telling me, you don’t put parmesan on your spaghetti or eat apple pie with ice cream?” His expression said it all.
“Right. And you like to make sure you have sauce on the spaghetti with parmesan on top of that, correct? Then, when you eat the apple pie, you have enough ice cream on the spoon before you put the pie on it, too?”
Rubbing his jaw with his hand, he sighed, “I’m so confused about what we’re discussing right now.”
“Mastication tactics. You have a way of eating certain foods and a tactic you like when it comes to them. Me, I have that when it comes to Mexican.”
Searching my face, his lips twitched. “I’m thinking mastication doesn’t mean what I think it does.”
Realizing what he meant, I shoved his shoulder, making him burst out laughing. “Ew, horse porn man. It means chewing, you pervert.”
“It sounds filthy,” he chuckled. “All I could think was—man, she really likes her Mexican food.”
We’d hit on some heavy topics in the ‘getting to know you’ part of the date, but this had been a great ice breaker for us. So much so that after it, we managed to discuss our families and siblings, as well as the things we liked, almost like we’d known each other for years. Then, after we’d cleaned up and were leaning back on the pillows we’d put inside the teepee with our legs stretched outside it, we watched a movie together.
We were relaxed and in sync. Something like that might spook people, but it was the opposite for me. I’d grown up with parents who were like this together, and from what Marcus had described, he had as well.
If couples discovered they had this early on, in my mind, it meant they could stop worrying about the future and just worry about the now. It meant you were compatible. Yeah, you’d inevitably argue and have problems, but you’d be able to work them out and resolve them because you understood each other.
So many people thought too much about the future, and it made them tense. I’d had shit happen in the past that’d stick with me for the rest of my life, but so does everyone. If being able to enjoy the now with someone easily was gifted to you, you didn’t ignore it. You grabbed onto it with both hands and enjoyed the hell out of the ride.
That’s what I was going to do, and I hoped Marcus found he had the same ease with me that I did with him.
With the air conditioning on and the rain still pouring down outside, we snuggled under the blankets and watched a movie. I couldn’t even tell you what it was because I was too absorbed in the fact I was breathing easily.
I hated that I’d had to stand him up six months ago, but maybe it brought us to where we were today. Perhaps that time wasn’t meant to be ours? I obviously had no way of knowing if that was true because I didn’t have time-hopping and time-traveling powers, but I liked to think of it that way.
Apparently I’d overthought it all, because when I woke up five hours later, I realized I’d been the worst date ever and had fallen asleep. Marcus had done the same thing and was wrapped around me from behind was soothing, but I was still embarrassed about my lack of ‘cool chick game.’
That was until he raised on his elbow, used the hand that’d been hanging over my belly to roll me to my back, and then kissed the shit out of me. During and after it, I gave not one shit that I didn’t have ‘cool chick game,’ because I had Marcus’ mouth on mine, his tongue flicking my own, and I got to run my hands up his back, under his t-shirt. All of those sensations and experiences erased my mortification, and all I was left with was pure happiness.
