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“Yes. Why?”
He shrugs. "Because that's pretty much all I can cook. But I make a killer sauce."
I giggle. “Okay,” I drag out the word, hoping he’ll explain why we’re talking about his cooking abilities or lack of.
“What’s your choice of drink?”
“Iced tea,” I answer his twenty-one questions.
He nods. When we enter the garden of my house, he turns to look at me. “Do you like hot chocolate?”
“Yes?”
“Good. Go and get ready. I’ll be cooking the best pasta you’ve ever tasted,” he says, and I just stare at him.
He laughs. “Go.”
With a big smile, I can't erase, I run to my room. Calling out "Hey, Jessica. It's nice to see you. Say hi to Stacey," as I pass her.
After taking a quick shower, I take extra time to get ready. Instead of my usual choice of sweatpants, I opt for yoga pants and another loose neck t-shirt. The memory of his slo
w and seductive touch from our first and only dinner together sends a shiver down my spine.
I don't want to get ideas, but I can't help but feel like this is a date. My first date with the first guy I'm really attracted to.
16
Elijah
This isn't a date.
This isn't a date.
Dammit, Elijah. This isn't a date.
I groan and finally say, "Fuck everything. Whatever happens, I won't fucking stop."
I place our plates on the coffee table. The roses are probably too much, but I'm tired of changing my mind about keeping or leaving them for the last fifteen minutes. I'm not a guy who dates, I'm not really opposed to the idea, but I've never met someone who could get my attention more than one night. My relationships were purely sexual all these years. Whenever I try my chance at dating, I felt a lack of connection. Maybe it's a kind of job hazard; being a writer makes me dig deeper, search for more than a physical attraction, even though I gladly accepted the call of lust at every chance I get. But all those one night stands didn't feed my soul. I've kept looking for something more even though I didn't know it. Until Evangeline. I've never experienced the kind of connection, the type of bond I feel with her. And look at me now, I'm preparing dinner and putting roses everywhere for a schoolgirl.
A schoolgirl who makes me lose my mind even without trying.
Just when I think about calling her, I hear the soft knock on the door. I check myself in the mirror next to the door for the last time before I open it to greet her.
Fuck.
She's stunning.
Her hair is in some kind of messy braid that leaves her face open. Every perfect detail about her features is in front of my eyes. She's make-up free, but today there's something different in her lashes that makes them even longer and curvy. That one difference makes her eyes more beguiling. They look even sexier and more seductive as she looks at me shyly. She's wearing a loose t-shirt with a relaxed neck. The material reveals her shoulder and her delicate neck, making me crazy with the need to put my lips on her skin, tasting her where her scent is the most prominent. Instead of sweatpants, she's wearing black yoga pants. The fabric hugs her curves, accentuates her shapely legs like fucking torture. And even the damn sneakers she's wearing makes her more appealing in my eyes it's getting ridiculous.
“Will you let me get in?” she says, interrupting my eye-fuck session. Her voice is playful, but I can see her blushing at my attention.
“Hi,” I say like a fool.
“Hey,” she whispers.
Jesus. Her breathy voice will be the death of me.
She stands in the entrance, waiting for me to lead the way. It's cute, for her to act like this is my place.
