AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m not sure. Depends on what you said.” A slow smile curves his lips, the sight of it absolutely devastating. Will I ever get used to that smile of his? “Funny how you keep doing that at certain moments.”
“I couldn’t help it. And I kind of went on a tangent about this entire surreal experience of being here and how I feel like I’m living in a fantasy,” I explain. “A Netflix movie or series or whatever.”
“I need to see this.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and I stop him, resting my hand on top of his.
“Watch it later. When I’m not around.”
“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable?”
“You watching me rattle on about you being my fantasy boyfriend while I’m standing right here?” Nervous laughter escapes me. “Yes.”
He shoves his phone back into his pocket and offers his arm to me. “Shall we go to dinner?”
I curl my arm through his with a faint smile. “Let’s.”
* * *
The sun is starting to set by the time we make it to our destination. Southern California freeways are no joke, and the restaurant we had our reservation at was only seventeen miles away, yet it took us over an hour to get there, thanks to rush hour traffic.
But the location is absolutely beautiful, filled with equally beautiful people dressed casually to the unknowing eye, though I recognize almost everything they’ve got on.
Designer clothes everywhere. Both subtle and obvious labels letting people know that they’ve got major money. Diamonds on the women’s fingers sparkling in the dim light of the restaurant, their hair perfect, their faces giving me serious filter vibes—and they all start to look the same. As in they’ve been Facetuned to the max. Chanel and Hermès bags are everywhere I look, and the scent of expensive perfume mixed with men’s pricey cologne lingers in the air.
I can tell this is a place to see and be seen. The lighting is dim, and there’s an entire outside deck that faces the ocean, which is packed with people. There’s also a massive bar on the other side of the restaurant that appears crowded as well.
“Did you pick this restaurant out?” I ask Tate once our server has seated us and left to get water for the table.
“It was Roger’s suggestion,” Tate admits.
Makes sense. He wants us visible and creating content. I noticed a few people inconspicuously taking our photos before we entered the building. Paparazzi? Were they informed of our location? I imagine it’ll become a little more chaotic by the time we leave.
“Have you eaten here before?” I open the menu, surprised by the lack of options. This must be one of those restaurants with a renowned chef who only makes a certain number of dishes each night.
“No, I haven’t.” Tate scans the menu. “They don’t have much.”
“I’ll have the shrimp salad.” I shut my menu. “I’m surprised Roger didn’t tell me I needed to lose weight.”
“Why the hell would he say that?” Tate practically growls, his gaze lifting to mine.
I’m surprised by the hostility in his tone. “I could stand to lose a few pounds. I’m sure I’ll be judged, out here in the land of the beautiful plastic people.”
“You don’t need to lose weight.” His voice has a firm finality to it that tells me he’s not interested in arguing with me about that particular subject. “And you can’t let being here give you a complex. If you do, you might need therapy by the time we leave.”
He speaks as if he has experience.
“There was something about the way Roger looked at me, though,” I admit, hating that I’m going there. The last person I want to talk about tonight is Roger. “Like he didn’t approve of me.”
Exhaling loudly, Tate closes his menu and sets it on the table, studying me intently. “If you ask me, Roger approves far too much of you. I told him to quit with the vulgar comments when he’s in your presence.”
I’m shocked. “You did?”
He nods. “I’m tired of his big mouth. He says the worst shit, and I don’t want him making you uncomfortable.”
Aw. That’s the sweetest thing. “He is kind of... odd sometimes.”
“More like he’s a total prick, but if you want to be kind and call him odd, okay.” Tate smiles at the server when he appears at our table once more with two glasses of water, setting them on the table. “Can we get the crab cakes, please?” He shoots me a quick look. “You can eat crab cakes, right? You’re not allergic to shellfish or anything like that?”
“I have no allergies that I know of.” I smile at the server. “The crab cakes sound lovely.”
