Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114211 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
But none of that happens.
Anthony savors every bite of his seven-layer lasagna dish like it’s heaven on his tongue.
And I enjoy watching him savor every bite.
I decide to take a risk and offer to feed him a bite of my steak. I fully expect him to pull an Anthony, grab my fork out of my hand and tell me he can feed himself, whatever. Instead, he leans in like this is something he expected, something we do all the time, and he moans as he slides the bite of steak off the fork with his teeth. “Fuck,” he hums to himself as he savors it with his eyes closed, “that is some damn good steak.”
And then he returns the favor, cutting me a perfect bite of his lasagna and feeding it to me straight off his fork.
He looks into my eyes the whole time.
A glint of excitement bursting in them.
Maybe I’m kidding myself by calling this a first date.
At one point, the head chef himself, Mario Tucci, comes out to make sure we enjoyed our meal. I notice Mr. Tucci giving a double take at Anthony, as if recognizing him from his time here before, but he says nothing further and makes no big scene out of it, so I just presume whatever insane night Anthony and Juni had in this restaurant however long ago is forgiven and forgotten—mostly.
“Hey, Bridge?”
I set my glass down. “Yes, Anthony?”
“I know I’m difficult sometimes. Say all the wrong shit at the wrong place. Not always as refined as I should be. But …” His eyes go softer, twinkling in the candlelight between us. Did I mention that part? Romantic candles, every table. “I just want to say …”
He reaches across the table—and knocks over the candle.
Both of us stare at it, our breaths held.
Until we realize nothing’s burning.
He gently sets the still-flickering candle upright. “Electronic,” he explains, though I’d already realized it myself, “thank God.” He takes hold of my hand across the table—what he was trying to do in the first place—and finishes his thought: “Just wanna say thank you, Bridger. For seein’ more in me than anyone else has. Givin’ me a shot. Takin’ your time with me. And most importantly …”
“You’ve said this already,” I tell him.
“Yeah, well …” He looks down at our hands, then flicks his hot little eyes back up at me. “Not during our first date, I haven’t.”
I grin. “Go on.”
“And most importantly,” he says with a bite, playfully showing his annoyance at being interrupted, before turning sweet again, “I sure hope this night ends with you fuckin’ my brains out, because it’s takin’ everything in me not to jump over this table right now.”
I’m pretty sure others around us heard that.
Anthony isn’t exactly quiet, even when he’s trying to be.
But I think he might be right about me. I don’t want to silence him. I don’t want to address the two heads that turned our way or return the indignant stare from the table across the aisle from us.
All I do is gently brush my thumb over the top of his hand, my eyes on his, only on his, and I say, “You better bet I’m gonna own that cute ass of yours tonight.”
The way he grits his teeth at my answer. That eager, hungry look in his eyes right now. I swear, I’m the luckiest guy in the world.
Stars are spread out over our heads for miles in all directions, miles and miles and more miles.
Anthony and I are leaning back on a blanket thrown over the trunk of the car, legs dangling off.
I put a playlist of songs I know Anthony likes on the car radio, which we only softly hear as we gaze up at the stars together, parked in a field just outside of Spruce, so every last speck of light in the sky is perfectly visible, undiluted by the town’s glow.
Our hands are next to each other between our bodies, and I smile when I feel him entwine his fingers with mine. It’s a sweet, unexpected gesture coming from him. Especially considering that the moment we got here, he thought my plan was to have car sex with him. But I told him no. My plan wasn’t for our first date to end with the Spruce police arresting us for indecent exposure.
Also, isn’t it a rule not to have sex on the first date?
“Stupid rule,” he mumbles next to me.
I chuckle and lean my head into his. “I wasn’t serious.”
“Yeah, you were.”
“I just meant that I gotta really, really like a guy to bend a big important rule like that.”
“Oh, is that it?” He nudges my foot with his own, a light kick. “Figured out how much you like me yet? We gonna bend that big important rule of yours?”
“Maybe I won’t bend it after all. Might do you good to spend a night by my side without biting a pillow.”