Sophie

I Facetimed Jess that night as I dug through my closet, weighing my options.

“You want his eyes to pop out of his head, Sophie. He needs to be barking when he looks at you,” she joked.

I snorted, “Like a fucking dog?”

“Yes! As he should be! Men are dogs!” she exclaimed, feigning exasperation, heavy on the sarcasm. 

“No, no, you’re right. We’re doing sushi–”

Jess cut me off, “Okay, so of all the decent sushi places downtown I have a feeling he’s either taking you to Tatsu or 316 Raw Bar. And I mean if I was him I would take you or 316 Raw because I would wanna hit it raw after.”

“Jess!” 

“No but seriously,” she said giggling, “Either place is downtown. It’s okay to look nice– you won’t be overdressed. I think this is an appropriate occasion for a slutty black dress and maybe,” she drawled, “some fuck-me-pumps.”

“I don’t want my feet to hurt!”

“If they hurt, make him rub them after and then make him eat you out for the inconvenience,” she said nonchalantly. I came back in view of my phone looking incredibly disheveled, stripped down to my bra and underwear holding up a slinky black dress I found in my closet. “Yes, yes, yes, exactly like that! Put it on! Lemme see!”

I quickly pulled the satin-y, polyester fabric over my head. It was a black slip dress that fell mid-calf with a generous slit up the left side to mid-thigh, with black lace trim on the bust and straps. It was cut well, and showed off my curves and cleavage, leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Very 90s, but very, very sexy,” Jess commented. I dug in my closet for different shoe options and she and I both agreed on a black, chunky heeled sandal with a strap around the ankle. “That’s it. Oh my God, please paint your nails red and do a red lip. You’ll look incredible,” she said. And I agreed, it would be striking.

“You don’t think I’ll need shapewear with this?” I hesitated, running my hands over my stomach while I looked at Jess, with her fiery red hair gathered in a messy bun on her crown. 

“No,” Jess scoffed, “first of all, you look fine, second of all, he knows what your body looks like, and there isn’t any use hiding the bumps now, third of all, taking off shapewear to fuck is such a boner kill,” which was something I hadn’t considered. “Honestly, you might be able to get away with wearing nothing underneath.”

I considered the suggestion, looking over to my mirror at my silhouette. She was right, it would certainly take away some of the lines and bumps that were appearing under that clingy polyester. And there was nothing sexier to me than the thought of Nick running his hand up my thigh and realizing there was nothing underneath. And the alternative thought of having Nick peel nude colored boyshorts, tighter than pantyhose, that sucked everything in from under my boobs to my thigh was just– not nearly as nice.

I agreed with Jess, and she squealed with excitement begging me for details when the date was over. When we hung up, I jumped into my beauty routine, thoroughly washing, shaving, plucking, rolling, painting, spackling, slathering nearly every product on my hair, skin, and nails. 

***

Friday arrived unremarkably. I was pleased to not be in the office dodging the stares of Bryce and his creepy sticky notes on my desk. I didn’t have all that much to do, but I considered writing a script for what I was going to say to Roger bright and early Monday morning.

Roger, I know Bryce is new but he fucking sucks. No, that won’t work. Roger, Bryce is my ex and… Does Roger even need to know that? Is it enough that he threatened to be ‘watching me’ and gave me three additional accounts to manage?

Just as I was turning these thoughts over in my head, I got a ping from Lydia on my work laptop. 

Lydia: The office is so empty today. I’m probs leaving at lunch. But Bryce is here– should I go talk to him? 😉

I rolled my eyes, suddenly incredibly thankful that I wasn’t there to be trapped with less people than usual and Bryce-fucking-Cameron. 

Sophie: I’m so glad I stayed home, I’m going to miss these wfh days.

I didn’t want to encourage her to go talk to someone so dangerous, so unhinged and crazy. But maybe if he had something new to focus on or at least be an impediment to getting to me, he would be distracted enough to leave me alone. Although, I knew this was wishful thinking– what Bryce wanted, he got. I would hate to throw Lydia into the crosshairs of someone so volatile and narcissistic but in the hopes of protecting myself, but I wrote:

Sophie: Go for it 😊

It was at that very moment that I decided my workday was over. I looked to my window, seeing people lounging in the sun, hearing rhythmic bass echoing off the pool deck and apartment exterior walls. I couldn’t go down there; I didn’t want to sweat before my date and have to rewash myself and alter my beauty regimen. Although, it would be nice to just sit and read. Try to take my mind off things. 

I shifted my focus again to the date with Nick as I picked the crimson nail polish off the skin of my cuticles and realized that I didn’t know what time we were going out. I quickly grabbed my phone and scrolled to our messages, opening that image of him, cock in his fist, an eruption of semen, his pearly, white cum dribbling from the head of his cock, globs on his thumb, in his shorn pubes and sighed to myself, already feeling light and giddy, wishing I had been there to watch him pleasure himself and say the filthiest things imaginable to him. I closed out of the image, relishing it and typed: 

So when should I expect your arrival at my doorstep? And is a dress appropriate or would I be overdressed?

He nearly immediately read my response and replied: Does 6:30 work for you? And absolutely, a dress would be perfect.

I shouldn’t be surprised by how quickly he responded, yet I was. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was as eager to see me as I was to see him. I was going to probe deeper, to flirt a little, but decided to like the message instead and leave it for later.

I managed to kill several hours snacking, pretending to work, doing laundry, and tidying up my apartment in case we decided to make a mess of my bed later. I tried to stay calm but had more nervous excitement coursing through my veins than I knew what to do with. I frantically started getting ready at 3– I knew I didn’t need that much time to do my hair and makeup routine, but I couldn’t distract myself much longer. I ran around half naked between my bathroom and bedroom, trying to maintain loose waves in my hair while still keeping it touchably soft. I took 30 minutes doing my makeup and another 30 perfecting it, making sure my cat eyeliner wasn’t too sharp and uneven, perfecting my complexion. 

I wanted to look effortless despite spending hours on my appearance. 

My palms were sweating as I pinned a couple strands of hair behind my ears. I had about 30 minutes to go as I carefully pulled the dress over my head, taking Jess’ advice and wearing absolutely nothing underneath, and scouted through my jewelry, trying to find the right combination of accessories, switching handbags, spritzing myself with my favorite perfumes. I surveyed myself in the mirror and was satisfied with how the black, shiny, satiny fabric clung to the curve of my sides, emphasized my ass and how despite not wearing a bra, my ample breasts gave me cleavage to salivate over.

At quarter after 6, I was trying to steady my hand as I painted my lips a deep, dark red when there was a soft rapping at my front door.

I padded to the door quickly, unlocked it and opened it to find Nick confidently leaning against my door frame looking absolutely divine. He was dressed slightly trendy– not dressed like an overgrown frat boy, which I had grown used to seeing in this beach town in their khaki shorts and pastel polo shirts and boat shoes. 

He was wearing well tailored light khaki colored pants with a light, olive colored, linen short sleeve button down shirt that was loose, open a few buttons showing off his smattering of chest hair and a thin gold chain I hadn’t seen on him before, soft, well worn brown leather loafers, sunglasses perched on his wavy hair that was combed back on the sides, flowy, but still showing his gentle curls on top. I hadn’t seen him with this much clothing on before but he was stylish; there was something hot about a man who knew how to dress himself well. He was tan; tall, dark and handsome, his eyes glinting at me as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I know I’m early,” he said apologetically yet somehow looked so cool and calm in the threshold. I felt like the wind was knocked out of me as my eyes kept sweeping over him, feeling completely disheveled and unprepared despite being fully dressed and nearly ready.

I scoffed at him, “Never show up early when a girl is getting ready,” not giving him the satisfaction of a compliment as I skittered back to my bathroom. He took that as his cue to enter and followed me, studying me as I resumed touching up the merlot color on my lips, darkening and blurring the edges. 

“I got bored,” he said, again apologetic, “I wasn’t sure if you might be done early or not.” I shot him a brief glare in the mirror as I ran my tongue over my teeth and checked to make sure they were free of the deep red pigment on my lips.

“Women are never done early when it comes to getting ready, Nick,” I said matter-of-factly as I continued fussing with the last details of my hair and makeup and jewelry. He continued studying me, and his gaze made me feel shy and tense.

“You know you look absolutely perfect, right?” he whispered, gulping. I felt myself purr at the compliment and turned on my heel, smiling devilishly at him.

“Drink it in, big boy, it’s all for you,” I teased. “You look pretty perfect yourself” I replied, the bathroom suddenly feeling tight and warm. I was actually nervous now. He was incredibly handsome and I felt like I had no business being with him, but I beat that thought away. He could leave now if he wanted, cancel. But he didn’t. 

“You know what, I’m glad you’re here early, help me put on my shoes,” I demanded. I pushed past him and sat on my bed, pointing to the black heels on the floor next to my feet.

He gave me a gentle smile and kneeled– God, it was hot to see him on his knees like that– and he grabbed my left foot, sliding it into my shoe like it was glass slipper and I was his damsel of a princess. He extended my leg, pulling it over his knee to fasten the buckle on the outside of my ankle. He rubbed his hand up my calf and didn’t break eye contact with me as he kissed my shin before setting my foot back on the floor. I felt my cheeks flush and my heart rate pick up at his touch and that smoldering look in his green eyes. 

He could take me right here, right now for all I cared. I didn’t need to eat when I had his eyes looking at me like that; it was enough to sustain me. 

He mirrored his action on my right leg, this time, pushing the fabric of my dress up my shin, above my knee, and softly kissed the inside of my thigh just above my kneecap, taking the deepest of breaths as he did it. I shivered as I felt the air from his exhale slither up between my thighs, tickling that proverbial part of me that needed his touch with an emergent immediacy. 

“So soft,” he murmured against my skin, slowly kissing a trail up my thigh. I felt breathless watching him, feeling his touch down my leg and around my ankle. He buckled the strap, letting his hands travel up my legs after, and I shook myself out of the nearly-dumb state I was in.

“What time is it?” I said, barely audible, trying to force my heart rate down to its resting state even though I didn’t want it to end.

He paused and checked his phone, “6:30 on the dot. You’re driving, right?” he joked as he got up from the floor, helping me to my feet casually, as if he wasn’t just teasing me. I felt wobbly, aroused. But I didn’t want him to know that, not so soon this evening.

I rolled my eyes at him, “Oh, so you want to be the passenger princess tonight, huh?” grabbing my purse and my own keys as he opened the door for me, waited for me to lock up and led me down to his car– some kind of black, sporty thing that was completely murdered out with a spotless interior– and he helped me inside.

I cocked an eyebrow at him as the engine roared to life, “You drive a stick shift?” to which he just nodded and smiled as he pulled his sunglasses down over his eyes. There was something so typically masculine about the fact that he drove a sporty stick shift, and while it was cliché, there was still something arousing about a man who could handle a machine with a throaty engine. “Well. Don’t overdo it tonight because we’ll be taking an Uber back here if you do,” I threatened, trying to sound annoyed, rather than intimidated at the idea of driving stick to get home if he got sloshed tonight.

“That wasn’t in the cards. You’re my passenger princess, right? I have to keep us safe,” his smile flirtatious and gleaming as we left for the restaurant. “I could teach you to drive stick, you know,” he stated as he shifted gears and accelerated.

I smiled thinking about him trying to not lose his patience with me as I would inevitably confuse the clutch and the break, and would likely fuck up driving with two feet. “I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Nick.”

“C’mon, it’s a useful skill! And it’s so fun for things like this,” he took a sweeping view of the road and I realized it wasn’t very busy. He immediately shifted gears and hit the gas, inertia pinning me to the seat of the car while we sped toward downtown. 

I hate myself for admitting this, but it was exhilarating, hearing the engine working to go faster, faster. My eyes were wide as I looked at the odometer and saw the speed climbing well past 70 miles an hour on a road marked for 45 as he weaved past slower cars. I hate to admit that this was kind of hot, too. Did Nick have anything about him that wasn’t hot though? I normally had a casual disgust for people who drove the way he currently was– it was reckless. But it was different while I was sitting next to him, feeling the engine’s power moving through me like I was part of the car, watching him show his mastery of this vehicle, knowing what it needed based on the sounds it was making and the speed he wanted to go. He was acting on instinct as we sped into the city.

He glanced at me, seeing my eyes watching the odometer and stopped accelerating, shifting gears. “Don’t look so worried, sweetheart, we’re just having some fun. You’re safe here with me,” he paused, “You really should know how to drive stick, though and I would be honored to take your manual virginity.” I couldn’t help but blush.

We pulled up to Tatsu– Jess’ prediction had been wrong, which I filed away for later– and I was slightly confused because he didn’t bother looking for street parking but quickly realized he was going to valet the car. Hardly necessary, I thought to myself, but still–sexy–being willing to spend money and not have me walking with him on dirty side streets in the crowded downtown area on a Friday. 

He helped me out of the car, tossed the valet his key, giving him a nod after he exclaimed a friendly “Hey Nick!” Apparently, Mister Congeniality knows everyone around here. Does he come here often? And again, as we walked in, Nick held the door for me and gave a knowing nod to the hostess who said, “Your seats are waiting for you at the bar, Nick.” 

He gently grabbed my hand, sending a pulse of electricity through me, and led us through the dimly lit, well appointed restaurant with traditional Japanese artwork, samurai helmets, and kimonos framed in glass mounted on every wall. It was crowded, even at the bar, but there were two quiet spots in a little nook close to the bartender with napkins and menus already set out. Usually, I would have preferred a table but this was actually better– more intimate. I would be closer to him. My stomach lurched thinking about feeling his body heat so close to mine, already alight with desire from him helping me with my shoes and from the car ride.

“I hope you don’t mind a bar spot, I always like sitting here because you can see the sushi being made. Plus you can get drinks quickly,” he said thoughtfully. He was cute, sweet, even, and part of me was staggering internally knowing that this was real.

I ignored his comment, “Do you… know everyone who works here?” I asked, as he helped me up on the bar seat that he pulled away for me.

“I know the owner, Jimmy, very well. Old college buddies,” he said casually, pulling his seat closer to me and sitting down. 

I was right. I could feel the heat of him, smell the scent of fresh pine and aquatic waters, his trademark, comforting, earthy scent. My head was buzzing and my stomach was still feeling tight but like it was floating in me at the same time. I was trying to act natural but the excitement was shooting through my nervous system. Women at the bar were staring at us, giving Nick a once over as he sat there with me, their expressions darkened with lust momentarily before returning to their conversations. I suddenly felt lucky to be next to someone who looked so effortlessly handsome, but also possessive. He was mine. He is mine. To tell him or show this possessiveness would have been crazy at best, but part of me wished there was a neon sign above his head that said “Fuck off.”

“And one of your friends owns one of the nicest sushi places downtown? In the culinary district?” I questioned, my eyes admiring the large, intricate, red and gold dragon mural painted above the bottles of liquor at the bar.

Nick shrugged, “You’d be surprised. His family is in the hospitality business and this was actually one of his ideas when we were in college so he managed to save up, get an investor, and now Tatsu exists.” 

I was impressed but also slightly intimidated that Nick coolly knew a young, entrepreneurial, wealthy and well connected business family in our area. My head was swimming with questions, but I had to settle for one at a time. 

Before I could ask anything further the bartender came over to get our drink orders, greeting Mr. Popular by his first name, asking him if he wanted the usual. Did he always bring his dates here? I ordered a spicy passion fruit margarita, and Nick requested warm Sake to start in addition to his usual. The bartender quickly went to work on our orders while I attempted to disguise how impressed I was. Again, there was something sexy about Nick just knowing the people here and getting served by them without having to make any requests. They just knew what he wanted and were giving it to him.

“Where did you go to school anyways?” I asked indifferently as I thumbed through the menu, looking at appetizers.

“Creston College here in town,” he said, watching me. Creston was more of a liberal arts and business school, but the campus was historical, picturesque, even, and had a pretty good reputation.

“And you stuck around after?” The answer was an obvious yes, but he knew what I meant.

“What’s not to love about this place? I know quite a few people here. My family is close, the weather is near perfect, and I can go to the beach whenever I want.” Family? I filed those questions away for later.

The bartender returned with warm Sake, my cocktail, and what looked like an Old Fashioned for Nick. Nick poured the Sake from the decanter, taking one of the comically small cups in his large hand. I took the other, inhaling the floral scent of the warm liquor.

He leaned closer to me, “To the most beautiful woman at this bar. Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Sophie,” he smoothly toasted, smiling at me as his eyes met mine. My cheeks and ears warmed as his fingers stroked mine on the bar, almost teasing me, while we both sipped the rice liquor, my lipstick immediately staining the cup. My nerves were starting to loosen, the warmth of the Sake seeming to settle me just a bit.

“Koa, can we get an order of the Brussel sprouts, dumplings, and edamame when you get a second?” Nick ordered, pouring himself more Sake. The bartender, Koa, affirmed while he was shaking up other drinks nearby. Nick didn’t bother to ask what I wanted, but all of those things looked delicious and I was eyeing them as I surveyed the menu.

I was slightly surprised, I suppose, that Nick was taking care of me so well. Although I shouldn’t have been; he’s proven to be safe and kind and tender. But this gallantry outside of the bedroom in a public place was catching me off guard. He was being polite and there was nothing sexual about it, but there was still something that was so alluring about him walking in here with authority, knowing the bartender, the hostess, and even the valet guy, and the fact that he was acting so nonchalant about it was somehow even more attractive. Like he did this all the time. And maybe he did. Maybe I was truly just another notch in this guy’s belt, but getting treated like this almost made me feel just as well connected as he seemed to be. And my proximity to someone so conventionally attractive made me feel slightly out of place; insecure, but again, lucky.

“What if I wanted something else as an appetizer, Nick?” I sassed him, “What if I hate Brussel sprouts?” I shot my eyebrows up quizzically.

He shrugged, noncommittal, “Order whatever you want, but I will tell you, no one hates the Brussel sprouts from here.” And he was right, I’ve had them before and they’re perfectly crispy and covered with a teriyaki sauce. “Do you actually hate Brussel sprouts?” he asked me, taking a swig of his Old Fashioned.

“No, I actually love them–” 

“Ah, so you’re just being a pain in my ass, got it,” he grinned after interrupting me. I pursed my lips and turned my attention back to the menu, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes raking over me, trying to continue our cat and mouse game.

“So do you come here a lot or did you call your drink order in ahead of time?” I asked, teasing him and peering over the menu, turning my body towards him. The implication of the question was if this was his typical date spot and I think he understood.

He chuckled at me, “Jimmy and I are buds, I’ve been coming here for ages. Most of the staff knows me. But this is kind of my special spot, I don’t really bring people here unless I think they deserve getting treated like a regular,” his eyes full of intention.

So I’m… special? Somehow? Already?

My breathing hitched and I was screaming internally with excitement, but I didn’t want to show it– didn’t want to seem too eager. This could just be all talk; trying to woo me and keep me complacent until I let him fuck me the way he wanted so he could eventually ghost me. It was entirely too soon to ask if we could exclusively fuck each other, and I didn’t want the competition; the hungry stares from other women at the bar were enough to make me seethe with jealousy. I took a long drink from my margarita. 

And it would probably be borderline suicidal to ask what he wanted from this arrangement we had. Our conversation from last weekend after our rendezvous at the gym seemed so far away now. I remember him saying he wanted to make me cum– hard and often– and that he wanted to take care of me, but everything else felt cloudy. Was he just saying that to placate me? 

I realized that there was a pregnant pause between us as we sat there; I was having a million thoughts, and him just… watching me. But it wasn’t like he was staring, it was more like he was considering me– kind of like you would an artifact at a museum– looking at the details, trying to figure out how it was fashioned. His attention was again, making me nervous. So much so I seemed to forget everything I wanted to ask him from moments before.

“Have you ever been here before?” He asked, picking up the conversation.

“A few times,” I said, glancing around. “That mural is one of my favorite things about this place,” I said pointing to the dragon above our heads. The swirls of red and gold almost shimmering in the low light. “I bet you probably know the person who painted it.”

He let out a low chuckle, “No, no. All I know is that Tatsu means dragon in Japanese according to Jimmy, so that’s why the mural was painted up there.” 

Our appetizers arrived and Koa set them down quickly with appetizer plates before disappearing to another area of the bar. I immediately started picking at the edamame, shelling them, welcoming the distraction they brought, and served myself a couple dumplings and Brussel sprouts. I almost didn’t want to eat because there were still nervous butterflies in my stomach, but I prayed food would help me relax a bit more than the Sake and margarita.

“Do you still have a lot of friends in the area?”

“Quite a few. A lot of us from Creston stuck around here because we were comfortable and there’s plenty to do around here,” he said, popping an edamame bean in his mouth, shelling a few more and putting them on my plate.

“Lots of booze and tail to chase, that’s for sure,” I joked.

“Well that, and I still play rugby every couple of weekends with some of those guys,” he added.

“Ah, that’s why you have such nice quads and a good ass,” I slipped, before I even had a chance to filter the thought. My cheeks went red and I could have sworn his went a little pink too. I didn’t think I had a taste for jocks but my ex was a jock. And Nick obviously was a jock.

“Sophie, have you been checking out my quads and ass?” he feigned surprise, narrowing his eyes at me. 

I ignored his question, his attempt at flirting. “We used to call the rugby guys ‘goats’ at my school,” I tried to recover.

“As in the greatest of all time?”

“Nahh, more like they were goats as in locking horns and all that. They had a frat and we called their house the Goat House. I don’t really understand rugby,” I admitted. But I did know rugby players nearly always had perfect thighs, and this one in particular had a monster cock so–

“That’s two things that I’m going to have to teach you about then,” he winked. 

Koa came to take our orders, asking Nick if he wanted the usual. And Nick agreed, promising to share his order with me because he thought it was the best sushi roll on the menu. And he would know, wouldn’t he? The alcohol was finally buzzing in my head and I was feeling more relaxed.

“Where did you go to school, by the way?” He asked after placing our orders.

“A small school similar to Creston in Wisconsin,” I replied, realizing he didn’t know a lot of very basic information about me.

“Ah, so you’re a snowbird,” he teased.

“Technically, yes, but I don’t plan on leaving when the seasons change,” I responded. Hopefully I don’t have to leave for any reason, and have to run from Bryce. Again. 

“Good, because you look excellent with a tan. It would be a crime for you to be trapped inside all winter with nowhere to parade in those tiny bikinis,” he flirted, placing his hand on my thigh and leaning closer to me. I immediately stiffened but relaxed into his touch, motioning for Koa to bring me another cocktail. I wanted to taste him. My eyes locked on his lips, studying the way he formed words. “Where do you find such skimpy things by the way? And have you no shame, Miss Sophie, in showing off your body like that for all to see? Even tonight, in this stunning little number?” He asked, motioning to my dress. 

“I should let you in on a secret,” he whispered, leaning even closer to me, “I want to rip out any other man’s eyes who dare to look at you,” the air got tight in my throat at the low, domineering tone of his voice. “The men here can’t keep their eyes off those pretty, red lips of yours but you’re mine, Sophie.” 

I glanced around the bar but it wasn’t obvious to me. All I could see were the other women, staring at us, their eyes cutting over enviously. “Or haven’t you noticed?” His nose was centimeters from mine, his eyes searching my face for an answer. I could almost taste the spiciness of bourbon on his breath as his hand slid up my bare left thigh, up over that silky fabric of my dress across my hip and around to my rear, as if he was caressing my naked body. He paused and there was a flash of realization as he ran his hand back over my hip and to my back side over and over. I was almost certain I would be leaving a snail trail in my seat at this rate and was doubly certain when he purred, “Oh, Sophie. You’re not wearing anything under here, are you? Is that why I could smell you so perfectly when I was putting your shoes on for you?” My heart was palpitating, skipping beats. He could tell, I know he could; my heart felt like it was bounding between us.

Koa delivered my drink and cut his eyes away quickly, sensing the pure sexual energy radiating from both of us. That was enough to steel my nerves. I blinked slowly at Nick as I put my index finger under his chin, stroking the trimmed scruff, letting my thumb run up the side of his jaw. “It took you long enough to notice. Didn’t I tell you earlier that this is all for you?” 

My head was nearly spinning from the arousal, from the smell of him and the alcohol on his breath. He squirmed slightly in his seat and I looked down, realizing that this was turning him on, too. 

I gave him a leonine smile, “If you keep playing your cards right tonight, you’ll have these pretty red lips wrapped around your cock and won’t have any use for ripping out eyeballs since your hands will be busy ripping at sheets instead. Or would you rather focus on my lips while I bounce on your cock? Mouth open, moaning your name, telling you how good you feel?” I whispered, low and slow for only him to hear, punctuating my sentence with a quick peck on his lips, even though I was dying to slide my tongue against his and feel his hands tangled in my hair and gripping my ass. Not here. Not yet.

He gaped at me for a moment before straightening up and polishing off his drink while I sipped mine and changed the subject, “So your family is close by?”

“Yeah, in Ridge Point,” he replied, his voice strained.

“Oh that’s really close. Like the next town over,” I twirled my hair around my index finger.

“Yeah, it has its advantages but they’re way out on the marsh land.”

“Do they have a boat?” I slipped, kicking myself for asking such a vapid question. 

“Yeah, a couple little piddly things for fishing and one nicer one for fun,” he replied nonchalantly as our food arrived.

Our conversation was light while we ate and he told me about fishing with his dad, bioluminescent plankton, and his mom’s infamous “boat sandwiches” which would be the only food he would want if he was stranded on a desert island– he swore they were the perfect kind of sustenance. He got another drink, we shared our sushi and he was right, the sushi roll he got was definitely the best I had ever had. I was impressed by how he used chopsticks like a natural, which he complained was beaten into him by Jimmy and Jimmy’s mom.

“She said I looked like a child with no hands using chopsticks the first time I went to their house to eat,” he laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh trying to imagine that in my head. He helped me fix my chopstick technique, the feeling of his fingers making me flushed, wanting them in other places, and let me have a sip of his Old Fashioned, asking me a couple questions about my own family and friends back home– I didn’t have anyone close like he did. He was a local and I was very much an outsider.

“How was work this week? Did the return to the office go okay or are you ready to jump ship?” He asked earnestly.

Just then, laughter erupted from a table over the sound of clinking dishes and conversation in the restaurant. I knew that laugh. I hadn’t heard it in years. We both looked around, trying to find the source and saw a table of four people. And my blood went cold as Bryce locked eyes with me across the restaurant taking a jealous look at Nick before returning his attention to his table.

_________________________

The big date! It ain't over yet, folks, I'm just getting started. Sorry I got a bit behind the last two weeks! I've been traveling, but I'm hoping you enjoy this chapter and the one that's coming next week, which will be even spicier than this!!!!! I wanted to titillate you; to get you excited. Hopefully it worked 😉 As always, feedback is appreciated!

Xoxo, Sasha

P.S. Is it Brussel sprouts or Brussels sprouts? I couldn't quite figure it out lol