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I slap his shoulder playfully. Tristan laughs and holds me tighter.
“What do you want to eat?”
I glance up at him, our lips so close. I could lift up on my toes and brush them. Tristan must read my mind because his eyes bounce down to my lips. He clears his throat and steps back.
“Dinner,” he says. “That’s what we’re talking about.”
I laugh, looping my arm through his. “Yes, dinner. Pizza?” I glance over at him.
“How about we go to Monroe’s and eat a more balanced meal? I want to make sure you’re eating the foods that are good for you.”
I pout, but my heart flutters. Knowing he cares so much about my health instead of seeing it as a nuisance makes me all swoony.
“Fine,” I sigh, feigning disappointment. “If we must.”
“It’s for your own good. Actually, if I had my own place, I’d cook you dinner to be sure you’re really getting all the right foods.”
“I thought you didn’t know how to cook.”
“I’d learn for you.”
I look at him with a soft gaze.
“You’re amazing,” I smile.
“I try my best,” he says, his cocky personality back in place.
I laugh and begin walking toward Monroe’s a few blocks away. It’s a fancier place I don’t eat at often, but their food is great.
We get to the restaurant and are seated right away. The dark grey and stone walls add to the dim atmosphere in the restaurant. The lamps are oversized bulbs hanging from the ceiling every couple of feet. Cushioned booths mix with wooden tables and chairs to give everyone the type of seating they enjoy.
“How was work?” Tristan leans forward.
“Good. It was busy, so it kept me occupied.”
“Not enough to not miss me, though,” he winks.
“Why did I say that?” I throw my head back with a sigh.
“I’m only kidding, babe.” He chuckles and reaches for my hand.
The way babe rolls off his tongue, directed at me, makes me shiver. I like it. It may not be the unique nickname he has for me, but it’s the tenderness in his voice when he says it that makes it special.
“I know.” An easy smile covers my face.
Not having to hold back my feelings or pretend this is all make-believe has alleviated the pressure weighing down on me. For weeks, I’ve had to measure myself around Tristan. Be careful. I wouldn’t cross a line when we were alone. It’s easy to fall into him and forget the rules. Now, I don’t have to worry about that.
We may be starting from scratch in some respects, but the foundation of friendship and feelings that have grown over time is still there.
“Were you able to get everything done?” I ask him.
“For the most part. At times I feel like I’m totally lost and have no idea what I’m doing. Then there are days when I’m a whiz about all this. It’s nerve-wracking.”
“What if it’s just your insecurities making you feel that way but not reality?” I lift my brows.
“Yeah, I think so, too. I also think imposter syndrome has a lot of the blame.”
“We should arrest imposter syndrome and lock him up.”
