Page 52 of Off Script
We dine on moules mariniere, boeuf bourguignon, coq au vin, and tarte tatin. Growing up in Mississippi, I haven’t had a lot of exposure to traditional French cuisine, so we stick with the basics, but they are anything but basic. The food is rich and delicious, and I cannot wait to try making some of the recipes at home.
After we finish dessert, we don’t stick around for after dinner drinks. I’m excited to get home and finish what we started earlier. Enough of this taking it slow stuff.
Ben holds open the restaurant's heavy dark wood and brass front door and I slip outside. "Do we need to wait on the side street?" I inquire, wanting to do whatever makes Ben feel the most comfortable.
"Nah, it's after dark. We should be fine to get picked up here." Ben taps out a quick text to his driver and then returns his attention to me. Ben wraps his arms around me, with my back pressed to his front, as he nuzzles my neck.
While there are people roaming about, the streets are fairly quiet, and everyone is minding their own business. Though we aren’t alone, it feels like we are.
I feel happy. Tonight's date was perfect. Good food, great conversation, and lots of flirting.
Turning in Ben’s arms, I cup his cheek, enjoying the feel of his five o’clock shadow against the softness of my hand and I place a heated kiss on his lips.
He groans as he pulls my body into his, like two pieces of a puzzle snapping in place. His hands flirt briefly with the bottom hem of my top before slipping underneath it to massage my skin. His thumbs scrap the underside of my breasts, and I ache for more.
The peaceful atmosphere is suddenly disrupted when the exterior doors of Le Bistro fly open, and a large, raucous group stumbles out, spilling onto the street, and yelling loudly to their friends. They’re obviously intoxicated and making spectacles of themselves. Amongst the throng of people are two Hollywood starlets from a popular television show.
Within seconds, the once quiet street turns into a chaotic scene as fans recognize the stars. Soon, people lift their cell phones to take videos and photos. Across the street, I notice a man loitering behind a tall planter, and in his hands, I spy a camera outfitted with some sort of fancy, long-range lens attachment. He starts yelling, calling the actresses by name to get their attention. The flash bulbs from his camera resemble strobe lights in the night, and I jump in surprise with each burst of light.
“Damnit,” Ben mutters, quickly bending his body around mine, shielding me from the onslaught of cameras.
Grabbing my hand, he pulls me away from the restaurant and hustles me down the same side street that we walked down earlier. He runs his hand down his face, shaking his head.
While our dinner date seemed like languorous foreplay, the episode with the paparazzo dissipated the sexual tension between like a popped balloon.
18
Carlisle
Ben drives through the streets of Austin while I watch the car’s navigation screen. As the minutes to our estimated arrival time decrease, my nervousness increases dramatically.
I’m going home with a guy who I’ve only known for a few weeks.
It feels absolutely insane and reckless, but it also feels right. More right than anything else in my life currently. But my life is kind of a shitshow, so that’s not saying much.
Since his invitation, Ben hasn’t clued me in on his family problems, though he has alluded to them on several occasions. Given my own complicated family relations, I’m not one to judge, but I am curious as to what I'm about to step into.
Ben pulls the rented SUV into the driveway of a large, older suburban home in a nice neighborhood in northwest Austin. Built before the days of cookie-cutter housing developments, the homes in this area are older but kept up nicely. They’re set back far from the roads and situated on large, tree-filled lots granting the homeowners privacy and space. Ben’s parents’ house is a two-story, lime-washed brick colonial with charcoal shutters, charming window boxes full of greenery, and a dark red front door. It has an inviting, homey feeling to it.
Turning off the ignition, Ben remains seated in the car. He blows out a slow breath and then shoots me a pained smile. “I haven’t been upfront as to why I don’t visit Austin much. I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid you’d back out if you knew the full story. Truthfully, it’s a topic of conversation that I avoid because it's painful.”
I grab his hand and thread my fingers through his. “Ben, you know my family is a mess. It’s okay.” He raises my hand to his lips and kisses my fingers.
Movement outside catches my eye, pulling my attention away from Ben. An attractive older woman wearing an apron over her clothes is standing on the large front porch with the front door ajar behind her. She’s watching us intently but doesn’t move toward our car, as if she recognizes that Ben needs a moment.
I nod my head to the front of the house. “Looks like the full story will have to wait. I think your mom is waiting for us.”
Turning his head, Ben waves to her while muttering, “Shit.” Facing me again, the words quickly tumble out of his mouth. “I’ll tell you everything as soon as we’re alone. Whatever happens… just go with it for now. And brace yourself, it’ll be awkward AF.”
“Do people actually say awkward AF? I thought that was just something you use in text. Shouldn’t you just say it’ll be awkward as fuck?” I joke, wanting to lessen the tension.
One side of Ben’s mouth tilts up. “Have you been talking to Jo? She always tells me that I say things that I’m not supposed to. But fine. It will be awkward as fuck. Better?”
“Much,” I wink.
“You’ve been warned.”
Ben takes another deep breath, and with the enthusiasm of a soldier going into battle, he trudges toward his mother. I follow slightly behind him, granting him and his mom a private moment.
