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Thomas looks comfortable in my space. It's strange having a man up here. I assume his home is much more luxurious than my modest apartment. He obviously has a lot of money. I have no idea where he lives, though. He hasn't once asked me to come home with him. A part of me is relieved. I don't want that pressure of sex looming over me. But I'm curious about the life he leads. He's tight-lipped about his life, his parents, and his past. Everyone takes a different amount of time to open to someone. Maybe he is just more closed off than most people.
I'm not going to push him. It still doesn't stop me from being curious, though.
"You’ve lived here since you started school?" he asks. He’d mentioned that he’d had an apartment since he’d left boarding school.
I shake my head. "I was in a dorm the first year. I didn’t like it. There was too much going on and not enough privacy. I’m more serious about my studies than some of the others. I prefer being alone."
Thomas nods slowly, looking around. His hand moves on the couch, reaching for mine. I let him take it.
His eyes, dark and smiling, turn to me again.
"You’re different than any other girl I’ve met here," he says. "It’s a good thing," he adds when I feel shy.
I smile. "I’m glad," I say.
Thomas brings my hand up to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" he asks.
I blush. My cheeks are flaming red. I can feel it. I dip my head, feeling shy.
"You always look like you’re not used to someone telling you how fantastic you are when I compliment you," he says.
I shrug. "I just don’t pay that much attention to myself," I say.
"You’re very modest."
I chuckle. "That’s a nice way to put it."
"Let me pour us some wine," Thomas says, getting up. He brought a bottle of wine with him. It's a nice gesture.
"What wine is it?" I ask.
"Pinot Noir," he says from my open plan kitchen. "Cork screw?"
"Bottom drawer."
Thomas pulls open the bottom drawer and rummages through it for the cork screw.
"It’s a very light red wine," he adds, assuming I don't know. I don't.
"That sounds nice. My affinity for wine has grown since you’ve introduced me to something real." I smile at him. "On a student budget, the options are very limited."
"I can imagine," Thomas says. I have the feeling he can't imagine it. Everything about him screams class and money. From the restaurant he’d taken me to on our first date, to his car, to the clothes he wears—Hugo Boss, Italian loafers, a Rolex watch that peeks out from beneath his sleeve. All of it speaks of wealth.
Thomas doesn't know what it is to even consider box wine.
"I’m glad I could educate you," he says.
"I never thought that wine would be something I learned more about," I say. "I guess you never know what you’ll learn."
"Or who you’ll meet," Thomas says. He opens my cupboards. "Do you have wine glasses?"
I shake my head. "I don’t, unfortunately. Like I said, I don’t really drink wine as a rule."
Thomas nods and reaches into the cupboard, retrieving two cups.
"I have normal glasses," I say.
