Page 137 of The Plan

She smiles, and it reaches her eyes. Just to see her squirm, I add, “You look good, but you also look good in nothing.”

Her mouth opens just a bit. I laugh when she looks everywhere but me.

“No more inappropriate comments.”

I slowly nod at her with a smirk, and she takes the plates to the table but avoids my eyes. I don’t know why she’s acting so nervous. We’ve been on plenty of dates. It’s really cute that she did this for me, though, and I appreciate that she’s putting in more of an effort, but I can tell she’s partly doing this because she still feels bad about last night, and she shouldn't. This morning was our fresh start.

I pull out her chair at the head of the table and then take my seat to the left of her. “Are these red lobster biscuits?” I practically jump to get one because these are literally my favorite. God, this woman is the best.

“Yeah, but I think Isa and I made them wrong, so just warning you.”

“I’m sure they’re great.” I take a bite, and they arenotgreat or even good. I go still and turn to her, but she looks like she’s waiting for my response. I chew on the doughy texture and fake a smile. These are definitely not cooked in the middle.

“Are they good?” They taste like fucking Play-Doh, and I would know because Isa made me try her Play-Doh ice cream multiple times, but she’s smiling at me all hopefully, and I can’t bring myself to break it to her, so I just nod with a smile.

I want to spit this shit out so bad, but she keeps her eyes on me with a pretty fucking smile, and if she keeps looking at me like that, I’ll end up eating all her shitty biscuits.

She takes a bite of her shrimp and grabs a biscuit. Since she isn’t looking anymore, discreetly as possible, I act like I’m cleaning my mouth with the napkin and spit out the uncooked biscuit. I eat some of the shrimp alfredo to get rid of the bitter taste in my mouth, and I’m glad it tastes better than her biscuits. When I look up at Vid, she takes a bite of the biscuit, and I wait for her reaction, but she only hesitates for a quick second before continuing to chew with a smile.

There's no way she actually likes it. She must have got one that was actually cooked. “Mm, they are good,” she says between chews. “Finish yours.” She takes another bite from hers like she’s actually enjoying them, and just because she asked, I grab the Play-Doh biscuit and reluctantly take another bite.

She looks so fucking happy; I think I really would eat all of these shits to keep that smile on her face. When I force down the raw biscuit, I feel it coming back up but swallow it again with a smile.

She grabs a napkin and spits out the biscuit I thought she swallowed and burst into a laugh. “These taste like shit, Sire.”

“Oh, thank God.” I spit out this shit, and her laugh grows. I watch her laugh uncontrollably with a smile. I don’t get how someone's laugh can sound as perfect as hers.

“Why did—” She starts laughing again and can barely get her words out. I smile at her and continue eating more of the pasta, thanking God it tastes amazing because I would’ve ended up also eating shitty pasta for her.

“Why did you eat it if it tasted like fucking Play-Doh?” We both throw our heads back, laughing.

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, and you looked so happy when I said they were good.” Hearing myself, I realize how ridiculous that sounds. August would call me a whipped bitch for this, but I couldn’t care less. I’d do anything she asks, with a smile.

She shakes her head, still smiling. “Uh uh.” She swirls her fork in her pasta. “You’re better than me because I’m sorry, but I’m not eating Play-Doh for you, babe.” She eats her pasta, and I freeze a bit at what she called me.

She clearly doesn’t notice, and I can’t tell if she meant babe like how she and Hazel call each other babe or babe likebabe.I go with the latter but don’t say anything and continue eating. I can’t help but smile at her the entire time.

We finish eating everything, and I help her clear the table. She grabs her failed attempt at biscuits and holds them out to me. “Are you sure you don’t want them before I throw them away?” She’s fighting back a smile as she looks up at me.

“I might die of food poisoning, Vid.”

“And you were going to eat them for me.”Damn right I was.She shakes her head and walks off, throwing them away. Taking our dishes to the sink, I start cleaning them, and she leans against the counter beside me.

“I could do dishes, you know.”

I glance at her, and she has her arms crossed.

“I know, but you don’t have to.”

She doesn’t voice another protest and lets me do the dishes. I don’t look back at her, but I can feel her eyes on me the entire time.

“Stop staring at me.”

“No, you’re pretty.”

I turn to look at her, and the weirdest feeling of déjà vu washes over me, but I shake it off. I dry my hands on a towel and then turn to face her. Placing my hands on the counter at her sides, I cage her in.

“Thank you for this.” It’s the first time someone has planned a date for me, and it was perfect. She’s perfect.

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