Page 88 of A Little Crush
Four words I’ve dreamed of him using for as long as I can remember, but as they hang in the quiet air between us, I can’t help but ask, “You sure?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
“That’s not what you were saying before we…” I wave my hand toward my still very bare lower half, pulling another low chuckle from him.
“You’re not a random hookup, Rore,” he promises. “Even if what we did was hot as hell. I wouldn’t have crossed this line if I wasn’t willing to play things out and see where they lead. What do you think?”
“So, we don’t tell anyone.” It isn’t a question. It’s an assumption. A conclusion. Because I get it. The desire to keep things under wraps to soften the fallout if there is one. And considering how closely our lives are tied together, it’s probably a wise choice, even if it’s a little disappointing.
“For now,” he clarifies. It’s as if he can taste my reservations and knows they match his own. “This is complicated enough with only two people’s opinions and views. Add in our families, and…”
I mimic an explosion with my hands. “Boom.”
“Exactly.” Taking my fingers again, he entwines them with his. “I don’t want to overthink. I want to just…be. Me and you and good food and the possibility of this turning out to be what I think it can.”
He wants me. He actually wants me. I don’t have to question whether or not the feeling is mutual. I’ve always been obsessed with him. And I get it. His reasoning. His motive. His desire to see things play out while keeping too many cooks out of the proverbial kitchen.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Let’s see what happens.”
32
JAXON
Rory looks beautiful. So much so, it’s hard to keep my eyes off her as the host guides us toward a quiet booth at the back of Butter and Grace. She chose a simple sundress that reaches just above her knees and seems to pour gasoline on her already innocent persona. It’s different than the dress she chose when she met up with Crowther. A little more fitted and white instead of blue. Fucking perfect. Add in her loose waves, light makeup, and glossy lips, and I’m a goner.
Seriously, should I put myself out of my misery now and kiss the shit out of her before we even make it to the table, or do I let her torture me for a few more hours?
I’m still not sure what we’re thinking. Coming here. It’s not like I’m a celebrity or have an entourage or some shit. But thanks to the relatively small town vibe and coaching Lockwood Ames University’s women’s team for years before accepting the Lions’ offer, it’s not like I fly under the radar. I also don’t give a shit. Besides, family friends are allowed to grab a meal together, aren’t they?
Fuck, I don’t even know anymore.
“I haven’t been here in forever,” Rory tells me. “Excellent choice, Jax. Thanks for bringing me here.”
“No problem.”
I debated what we should do for our date for way too fucking long before deciding to take Rory’s advice. I’m gonnanotoverthink shit, and we’re gonna go with what’s comfortable. Butter and Grace is a long time favorite for most of our families, though I’m not very worried about running into them. Maybe I should be. Maybe it’s a bad idea. But as long as we don’t run into my ex, it should be fine. If she finds out I’m dating anyone, even casually, she’ll lose her damn mind. But if our families see us? We can brush it off as a friendly night out, one we’d entertain with any one in our families.
I glance at Rory again. The hem of her dress has me playing peekaboo with her silky thighs as it hikes up a few inches when she scoots into the booth.
Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t entertain these kinds of thoughts with any of our other friends. My jaw locks, and I clench my hand to keep from reaching out to smooth out the cotton fabric.
We both order our drinks, and the waitress sets them in front of us minutes later, leaving me alone with Rory and a charged silence I don’t know what to do with.
It’s not awkward but still holds an unfamiliar weight.
Placing the linen napkin on her lap, Rory peeks up at me, asking, “Is this weird?”
“Not weird.”
“You’re being quiet,” she notes.
She’s right. I am, but fuck me, I can’t help myself. I’m too distracted, too caught up in the woman across from me. Hell, I can barely think straight, let alone form a coherent sentence.
Get your head out of your ass,I remind myself. She’s not a piece of meat.
“You’re right.” I scratch my jaw. “Sorry, you just look really beautiful tonight.”
She hides her shy smile by picking up her glass and stealing a sip of her drink.
