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I pick out my navy chinos and a button-up shirt, then slip on my new black lace shoes and finish the look with some gel in my hair and add a hint of cologne. My head bops up and down to some rock in the background, but then I pause for a second, remembering something important.
Turning around, I go to my suitcase and find the box of condoms and take one out, shoving it in my wallet.
“Got to protect you too, buddy.”
I think about Abigail and can imagine her saying, “You wouldn’t have to protect it if you slept with one woman.”
My lips thin as I hear her voice echo in my head but force myself to shake that thought off, annoyed that her voice is now in my mind, not just images of her.
I quickly grab my wallet, keys and switch off the TV, quietly locking the door behind me. I’ve got to get out of here before I go insane with thinking of Abigail. It’s starting to scare me.
As I walk towards the main area of the resort, I pass the reception desk, nodding at Con, who looks less frazzled and more content. I walk on by the stylish couches and tables until a beautiful woman stops me in my tracks. My eyes widen, and I grin like a fucking teenage schoolboy.
Abigail stands as a focal point of my vision, her hair in a braid, wearing a yellow top, and a short pink skirt splattered with pineapple prints. I smirk and chuckle as she notices me and does a cheeky curtsy.
I walk up to her, and she says, “Oh wow, you smell great. Are you planning to go out somewhere?”
I shove my hands in my pockets and nod. “Yeah, from memory I’m supposed to have dinner with this pink haired writer. Shame, though, she doesn’t want to sleep with me. But maybe I’ll win her over soon.”
“You’ll have to try hard,” Abigail says and laughs, giving me a playful poke on my arm. “But back on the topic of food, I’m hungry, and you don’t want to see me hangry. I’ve ordered a taxi, and we can go to this little Italian Pizzeria fifteen minutes away from here, so not too long.”
“Didn’t the waitress say there aren’t any places around here?” I raise an eyebrow, noting that it wasthe start of whatever it was between us. If it weren’t for the mix-up, we might not have even spoken to each other again.
She shrugs with a grin. “I did my research, anyway. She was wrong.”
A smile wouldn’t describe the stretch of my mouth. No. I grin like a fucking fool at the spunky minx.
“Well, looks like you’ve got it all covered, then.”
*
We arrive at the quaint restaurant in fifteen minutes exactly. The venue isn’t small, with just enough room to move around and feel comfortable.
Then again, being with Abigail is nothing but comfortable. Restaurant or not.
The waiter walks us over to a table for two at the back and gestures for us to take a seat, then hands over two menus, one being food and the other drinks.
“Thank you,” says Abigail, accepting the menus as she sits down.
“Thanks.” I take the menu and make myself comfortable on the chair as I browse through the drinks. “Shall we share a bottle? Red?”
Abigail chuckles and shrugs. “I don’t know wine that much, and I think ordering for me is what you’re going to do, anyway.”
“Ah, my little flamingo, I think you are getting to know me too well.” I wink at her, and then point at the menu and say, “One bottle of red, please. Nothing too sweet or too dry.”
The waiter smiles, almost pleased with my choice, and nods, then hurries off, leaving us to our privacy.
“Aren’t you a little picky.” Abigail says, cocking a brow.
I nod. “Australian’s make great red wine and I’m happy with anything, but most women don’t like too dry or too sweet. Trust me on this, I know wine when it comes to dinners.”
“Ah yes, you’re very experienced in the wining and dining part.” she adds, lips quirking. Then she leans her elbows on the table. “Also, can you please stop calling me a flamingo. I am not a bird and stop dissing the hair.” Abigail then gives me a faux pointed look to which I chuckle at in response. “Can’t you compliment something else about me? Like my outfit?”
“I like it actually.” More than I thought I ever would. “So, I’m not ‘dissing’ it, as you say. It suitsyou. In fact, the hair and dress are a perfect example of you.”
“Interesting. Please elaborate.” Abigail says, quirking a brow.
I laugh at her curious tone. “Well, the added pineapple prints on your skirt make it a little quirky. The color of your hair screams out boldness.”
