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She twisted her hand in mine and wrapped her fingers around my palm, pulling me into the house. “No, you’re handsome and dressed just right. We are staying in tonight.”
I pinched my brow and closed the door behind me. “Staying in?”
She gave me a single nod. “Yep. We’ve already done so much in the city. I mean, how do you top bungee jumping?”
I laughed and let her lead me into the dining room. She had dinner set out on the kitchen island and the kitchen table was set for two, candles included. Ophelia had made pizza from scratch and paired it with garlic knots and wine. Everything looked amazing and smelled even better.
“Now,” she began, pulling her hand from mine and walking around the kitchen island to present the pizza to me. “I remembered you were a fan of all things spicy on your pizza, so I made two. One with all the peppers under the sun and one with pineapple for me. The crust is New York Style with parmesan baked right on the bottom. Trust me, it’s to die for. And the garlic knots
—”
“Phe.” I stopped her, making my way toward her, I gently took her waist in my hands and turned her to face me. She brought her arms up and rested them on my shoulders, her chin high in the air as she looked up at me. Even with heels, she was still shorter. “This looks amazing. I can’t believe you did this.”
“It was nothing.” She closed her eyes, tilted her head and grinned. “Madeline helped a little bit.”
I returned her smile, leaning down to kiss her, unsure if she would let me, but when she raised to her tippy toes—yes, even in her heels—to meet me halfway, I couldn’t resist. I touched my lips to hers, breathing her in as she moved a hand to the nape of my neck. Her fingers laced in with my hair, and I inhaled, remembering how her kisses used to be versus how they are now. And I melted.
Breaking the kiss, she took a single step back, licking her lips as she ran her hands down my arms and led me to the table. We each grabbed our plates and took them back to choose our slices, and as soon as we sat, she filled our glasses with my favorite red wine.
“Not only did you remember the toppings I liked on my pizza, but you remembered my preference on wine?” I chuckled.
Ophelia sat down next to me, her chair angled toward mine. “There’s a lot I remember about you, Clay.”
I took a sip before placing my glass down. “Oh, yeah? Remind me.”
She gave a small chuckle. She shifted her hips, crossing her legs. Biting a corner of her lip, she gave a small cough.She’s so damn cute. . .
“I remember how you’d rather work on Microsoft Excel than read an actual book. The way you would drink coffee with two creams and one sugar, but I think you drink straight black now.” I nodded that she was indeed correct. She met my eyes and took a deep breath. “I remember that you would relax by playingCall of Duty,and that it bothered you that Milo would always sneak in and play a few rounds with you. You would get mad at your professors for assigning too little, always complaining that your classmates had no idea how to do the work because they were always coming to you. I remember the way you would get excited about a new notebook, or that you loved to lay out in the grass to watch a meteor shower. I remember the way you would laugh at the stupidest things but get emotional over those dog commercials, even though you never had a dog.”
“Hey,” I stopped her. Every little detail she remembered pulled at my heartstrings. I had remembered everything about her during our decade apart, but I was certain she had blocked everything about me out. She never had—ever. I swallowed and tried to think of words. “Those commercials are heartbreaking, and you always cried.” I took a bite of pizza and it exploded on my tongue. “Holy hell, this is amazing.”
“I remember how you love to eat thin crust pizza, and you would always let me order pineapple on it, even though you hated it,” she added, her voice soft and smooth.
I swallowed and leaned over, gently landing a kiss on her lips. A soft hum vibrated through her throat as the simple kiss lingered.
“Pineapple can go on pizza,” I admitted, “but you’re right. I don't like it, but it always made you do a giddy dance when you took a bite. I liked the little dance,” I whispered against her lips. She leaned her forehead on mine for a split second before pulling away, returning to her wine and pizza, the look of joy never once leaving her eyes.
Once dinner was over, I helped clean the table, ready for the next step in this date of ours. I was torn between wanting to skip to kissing her, holding her in my arms until Madeline came and kicked me out, maybe even after then, and taking our time, making it last forever. I glared at the clock, trying to will it to slow down. That way, I could get the best of both worlds.
I watched her move, the green dress swaying with each turn, captivating my entire attention. Why did I let her walk away all those years ago? I could have had her always. I could've been calling her mine this entire time. All the things that I thought replaced her never gave me the kind of happiness that she did and just thinking of all the moments I missed killed me.
She spun and faced me, the glow radiating from her. Without thinking, I instantly slipped my hand on her waist, feeling the warmth of her body under my palms, pulling her close to me. I kissed her again, breathing her in as her body pressed against mine. I didn’t know what else was in store for us, but I did know I just needed this to last a little longer.
“Are you ready for a game?” she asked in a sly voice, tilting her head, raising a single eyebrow.
“What kind of game?” I asked, not loosening my grip on her.
She took a step back, forcing my arms to fall. “It’s fun, trust me.”
“I’m not sure I can trust you.”
“Clayton.” She stretched her arms and arched her back. “If I can trust you enough to jump off a bridge. . .”
My chin dropped, silent laugher making my shoulders bump. Her hands trailed down my chest. Her back relaxed as she melted against me. I raised my chin and gave her a fleeting kiss. “Let’s play your game.”
An hour later, I sat on the sofa, cards laid out in front of us as she tried to guess the two words from my single code word. I had never played a card game on a date before, but we had never laughed more than we had right now, and we hadn’t even drunk that much wine. When she chose the code word “evil” to have me guess “plot” and “lair,” and I failed miserably, I almost leaped across the coffee table, but now it was my turn, and she was struggling just as much to guess the final word on her board.
The code word was “cushion,” and she had guessed the wild card (cat), but the obvious one (pin) she was struggling to find.
