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“Then you should know how phenomenal the soundtrack is.”
He leans closer to me grazing his nose against mine. “I have a confession to make then.”
“Okay…”
“I sort of listen to the soundtrack when I work too.”
“What?” I shout, leaning back in my seat and then adjusting my legs underneath the blanket over us. Once the sun went down, I wasted no time asking for the complimentary blanket. It did get cold rather quickly. “You were just giving me shit about it and you do the same thing?”
Damien throws his head back in laughter. “I know, but that’s why I had to bring it up. I wanted you to know that we share that little quirk. Apparently, we’re more alike than we realized.”
“Well, I already know we’re both extremely competitive and hard-working—but an admiration for that movie is definitely something I wasn’t banking on.”
“I bet I know the songs better than you,” he challenges, arching his brow at me again.
“Oh, Jesus. Turning this into a competition now, are we?”
“Would you expect anything less from me, Char?”
All I can do is shake my head at him. “Nope. Not at all.”
“It’s kind of nice knowing a little bit about me, isn’t it?”
“I mean, yes. But I feel like there’s still a part of you that is a stranger,” I answer honestly, brushing my hair from my face.
“I feel the same about you. But I tell you what, that makes this more fun, I think.”
“Why?”
“Because that means we still have things to learn about each other.”
“Okay, so what do you want to know?” I ask, taking this opportunity for us to discover more about each other. Twelve years is a long time to change.
Damien rubs his hands together. “I want a crazy story from you while you were in college.”
“Oh, God. You already asked me this and I told you that there’s nothing to tell.” Correction, there aren’t any stories that I want Damien to know.
“Nope. I don’t believe you.” He points a finger at my chest and then draws it up over my exposed collarbone, making a path for the electric current his touch evokes to follow. “You owe me a story and then I’ll give you one in return.”
“Tit for tat?”
“I mean, if you wanna show me your tits, I wouldn’t object to that.”
Rolling my eyes, I take another sip of my wine. “Oh, brother. Fine, you want a story? Here’s one.” I search the Rolodex of my memory and land on one that I think will appease him. And even though I’m acting annoyed, I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun on a date—or with Damien, for that matter. And all I keep thinking about is how I don’t want this night to end.
