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We share a laugh and my mood lightens as he offers me a refill.
Handing him the glass back he raises his eyebrows, asking the question that doesn’t need to actually be asked because we’re on the same wavelength.
“I’m good for now. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I notice his politeness. It’s almost weird because he says it somewhat formally, but I like it. This is L.A. after all. Usually, if you meet a hot guy they’ve got something wrong with them, thanks to a lifetime of being coddled over due to their looks, never needing to develop other skills. Scratch that.Anyother skills.
But not Sam. He’s clearly very good looking but doesn’t seem like his entire identity is wrapped up in his looks, which is a breath of fresh air, to say the least.
“You gonna give me the tour?”
He almost chokes on the water he was drinking before offering up, “You can take it all from right where you’re sitting.” He brings the tip of his index finger to the tip of his thumb, his hands turning to cylinders as he brings the pair of imaginary binoculars to his face and pretends to scan his room.
I can’t help but laugh and then do the same.
Almost immediately my eyes land on the one thing that dominates his space…his giant TV and the DVD player underneath.
“You watch DVDs?”
“Old habit.”
“Old habit or you’re just old? Oh!” I bring my hand to my mouth and point at him with the index finger of my other hand as if to say ‘got ya.’
He laughs along with me and I realize just how much I like this guy, how comfortable I feel around him…how easily we’re building rapport.
I catch myself holding eye contact for just a bit too long, my cheeks heating and I look away, drawn to that darn TV again. Looking at the DVD player I see a number of jewel cases strewn across the top, and the disks laid out on his bed with dates on them.
That’s odd.
But I spot something else and I’m quickly distracted, having the attention span of a goldfish thanks to the alcohol and I don’t follow up on my curiosity about what’s on those disks.
“You have the entire eight seasons of Dexter? The box set?” Standing, I wobble but becoming more acquainted with the room I put my hand out against the wall and steady myself, moving toward the complete collection of one of my favorite TV shows ever.
“All eight seasons andNew Blood.”
“What do you mean by new blood?”
His eyes rake over me and a devilish grin tugs at his lips but quickly disappears. “And you act as if you’re a real fan.” He fake gasps and I move closer to him, slapping him on the arm. But instead of pulling my hand away I leave it there, dragging it across his bicep, feeling his thick muscles as my jaw goes slack and I try and swallow but come up dry.
“Wow. You work out. A lot.”
“Gotta stay fit. Never know when you might have to wrestle.”
“Wrestle. When would you ever wrestle?”
“Tickle war!” he announces and starts making a come hither motion at my sides. I turn my body to the side, see the bed behind me and throw myself on it trying to escape, throwing the pillow at him but he just catches it instead.
“No!” I protest playfully as he brings the pillow down over my face, my back and head flat against his bed. He lifts it up quickly, moves his head in a creepy but fun way to the side of it before laughing like a villain. Then he squishes the pillow into my face, holding it there just a bit longer this time and with more force.
A flash of fear rips through me, the taxi driver’s words running through my ears. ‘For all you know he could be an ax murderer.” But just as soon as those thoughts enter my mind he pulls the pillow back and tosses it to the side. “Sorry. I got carried away there. Chocolate?”
“You have chocolate?”
“Puh-lease.”
I laugh at his reply and not ten seconds later I’m being handed a package of Ferrero Rocher. Not the three pack. Not the small one. The big one I never buy because how can you justify the price.
