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I lean forward and close my lips around the straw in my drink before taking a sip and glancing around the restaurant. It’s a beautiful place, maybe even somewhere I would come again. Quiet with dark, cool tones that I would expect to make it feel more like a club than a high-end place to eat, it’s actually quite romantic. Not uncomfortable at all.
Our table is tucked in the furthest corner from the front, and I don’t know if that was the original placement because, just as I thought, we missed our reservation. But just like Maddox said, the hostess was quick to find us another place to sit. A private table, which I’m grateful for.
The words he said to me outside are still fresh in my mind, wreaking havoc on my heart and soul. I’ve never had anyone tell me those things before—let alone a man—and I’m at a loss for what to do with myself. Is it too much to throw myself across the table and plant myself in his lap? Yeah . . . probably.
Today has been an absolute whirlwind of emotions, and I feel more exhausted than I did during finals in my last year of vet school. If I were with anyone else tonight, I would have opted to go home and curl up in bed instead of going out to dinner, but I’m with Dox, and that’s worth feeling dead on my feet.
We’re starting fresh. Well, as fresh as we can, considering our history. It feels like a weight off my chest knowing we can move forward together and hopefully find ourselves back to where we were before everything bad happened—or close enough to it.
I don’t think I could ever silently pine after a man again the way I did Maddox, and after today . . . I’m positive that I’m about to fall in love with my childhood best friend all over again. It should terrify me, but it’s weird because for the first time in a long time, I feel completely at peace with the idea.
Maybe it’s because I now know how he felt when we were younger. How he pined for me as hard as I pined for him and that all the nights I lay awake in my bed convincing myself that he loved me back weren’t ill wasted after all.
It might sound arrogant, but I think he’s found himself in the exact same position. The fake couple façade is only going to act as an accelerant to our resurfacing feelings, and if I were a gambler, I’d put money down on us falling harder and quicker than we maybe would have otherwise.
I’m damn near positive about it.
And I’m ready for it.
I just hope he is too.
“How are your feet feeling?” Maddox asks, humour thick in his voice.
Pulling out of my thoughts, I release my straw and smile sweetly. “Perfect. Like they’re cozy in a pair of fuzzy slippers.”
“Really?”
“Really.”Not. There are blisters on my heels that have to be the size of loonies. As soon as we sat down, I slipped my shoes off beneath the table.
“You’re probably not nervous about the walk back to the truck after this, then.” He’s watching me coyly, trying to keep from smiling, but his twitching lips are giving him away.
“Nope.” I pop thep. He hums low, and I startle when the toe of his sneaker touches the tip of my big toe. His eyebrow jumps, a smirk spreading across his perfect features. “What? I have sweaty feet.”
“Come on, Curly Fry. Just admit defeat.”
“Not happening.”
“Fine.” He shrugs and wraps long fingers around his dewy glass before bringing it to his lips and letting the cool drink slide down his throat.
It should be a crime to look so good drinking Coke.
Setting the glass back down, he slowly swipes away the wetness on his lips with his thumb, his sly gaze unwavering. Christ, that shouldn’t turn me on, but here I am, squeezing my thighs together beneath the table and struggling to breathe.
“Do you not drink alcohol?” I blurt out, snaking a hand behind my neck to wipe away the perspiration.
He leans back in his chair and taps his fingers to the white tablecloth. “Not usually. Definitely not during playoffs. We have practice tomorrow, and alcohol slows me down.”
“Does it bother you that I’m drinking? I could have ordered something else.”
“Fuck no. I’m a grown man, baby girl. I can handle a bit of a tease.”
Oh. “You know that the equivalent of baby girl is baby boy, right? Unless you want me to start calling you that, stop with the baby girl.”
He drops his head back and laughs, the sound so beautiful that I can’t help but watch him, soaking up how good it feels to hear that sound again. It has my heart all turned in on itself.
“What’s so funny, baby boy?” I ask through a giggle.
“Fucking hell, I missed you,” he replies, shaking his head as he falls forward, elbows planted on the table now. “But you win. Please no more baby boy. It hurts my ego.”
