Page 19 of The Most Dearest
We were seated at the table and began perusing the drinks list. “Don’t you dare. This is fun. I’ve never been involved in such a complicated operation before. Believe me, I’m getting a lot out of this."
“Ha! Like what? Extra time with your dick neighbor in the world’s most dysfunctional household?” I joked.
“No. Time with a beautiful woman who is funny, charming, and sweet,” he said sincerely. Okay, so we were going to make this awkward.
“Oh, um. Thanks.”
He smiled. “Sorry, I didn’t want to make things weird. But I do like you. Have you enjoyed the past few weeks?”
“Yes, I really have,” I replied honestly. “I just haven’t ... um ... I didn’t see us that way.” The last part was a lie. The more time I spent with Damon, the more I thought about him as more than a friend.
“Do you think you can now?” He asked. “I’m not suggesting you move in or marry me, but we’re having fun so why not switch this to a real dating thing?”
I pretended to be hugely interested in the drinks list for a minute before I answered.
“Okay. I mean, if that’s something you want, then I think I could ... I think it would be fun,” I finished lamely. Damn it. I hadn't been on a “first date” for years. But then, was this really our first date?
“Yes, that’s something I’d want,” he said confidently, giving me his amazing grin. Beaming, my mother would call it. I returnedhis smile. “Then, cheers to us! I mean, when we finally get drinks!”
Dinner was awesome. After the awkward beginning, we hit our stride and exchanged stories from our childhoods about sibling squabbles and protective parents. Damon had a sister, Ella, who lived interstate with her boyfriend, but his parents only lived about 10 minutes away.
We ended the night on my doorstep. I didn't invite him in. Fake sex didn’t seem the right thing to do at that point, and tomorrow was a workday, so it provided me with the perfect excuse. “Goodnight, thank you for a truly wonderful night. It was so good to get out for real,” I said.
“No, thank you. That was fun. We’ll have to go back there sometime. That lamb was the best.”
Neither of us spoke. We just stared at each other. His face was serious, but happy, while mine must have been a picture of nerves. He bent down and kissed me lightly on the lips. No tongue. Just a pleasant, soft kiss. I smiled.
“Well, goodnight again. I'll text tomorrow morning with information on our next rendezvous.”
“I look forward to that,” he said, giving me a firm hug and rubbing his hands over my back.
Something new was beginning.
Chapter 20: Harrison - Autocorrect
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind
King Henry VI, William Shakespeare
Well, today was already officially shitty. I slept in because the neighborhood cats held their fight club last night and Alvin decided to add her screechy voice to their battle cries at my bedroom door. I was so fucking tired. My shoes had been moved under my bed, no doubt Miranda's handiwork. I'd have to put a lock on my door. Maybe even an alarm. By the time I found them, I was officially late to work. Even when I did find them, I was certain she'd done something to them, so I was extra late because I had to examine each shoe before putting my hand in them to see if there were any “surprises.” There were not, but I couldn't be too sure, so it was worth checking. Fucking Miranda. I typed out a quick text to Brian.
Me: Running late, car situation. Sorry.
I shoved my phone into my pocket and called out to Emma. “Got them. Let’s go babe.”
“I'm already at the door,” she called back, sounding frustrated.
When I started the car, my phone chimed. It was Brian.
Brian: Very inappropriate Harrison. We will discuss when you get here.
What was so inappropriate? I was never late. Surely he wasn't shitty about that. I checked my original message. Oh fuck.
Me: Running late, car situation. Punch me in my tiny pea-sized balls when you see me.
Could this be Miranda? No way. She'd never had my phone. I wasn't stupid enough to leave it out. I quickly texted back.
Me: Sorry. Autocorrect. Will chat when I get there.
