Page 57 of Bad at Love
But then I notice how gorgeous she looks. Her blonde hair is piled high on her head, she has sparkling earrings on and what looks like a short, deep-purple dress with a low neckline. Those black heels she had problems with on our first date are on her feet, making her shapely legs look fantastic.
I realize I’ve been staring at her body like a creep so I smile at her and say, “You look very, very beautiful.” I point at her somber face. “Except for this. What’s all this? And by this, I mean why do you look like you want to kill me?”
She closes her eyes, shakes her head, pressing her knuckles into her forehead. “Sorry. I just had a really…my aunt called me about my dad. I’m in a mood now.”
Ah shit. “Do you want to cancel? We can stay in and watch Netflix instead. Unless you want to be alone, of course.”
Please don’t tell me you want to be alone. Please tell me you need me.
“No,” she says quickly. “We’re going out. I’ll get over it.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Maybe later. Hold on.” She disappears back inside and grabs her clutch purse, then comes out and locks the door behind her. The exterior lights catch the glow of her dress and I reach out and touch the material.
“What is this, velvet?” I want to run my hands all over her fucking body and never stop.
“I know, it’s material you’d wear around Christmas, not summer,” she says, running her fingers over the bodice. Naturally I’m staring at her very full breasts that are very much on display. “But it fits and I think it’s flattering. Isn’t it?”
She glances up at me through darkened lashes and completely catches me ogling her. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” I tell her. “I was staring at your very lovely breasts.”
She laughs. “Well, I was sort of pointing at them wasn’t I.”
Now I’m faced with the dilemma of if I should kiss her or not.
Fucking man up and do it.
But she takes my arm in hers and starts walking off, leading me to the car. “Come on, we don’t want to be late. I have a feeling Mr. Chow is one of those restaurants that has goons who will grab us by the collars and literally hoist us out onto the streets.”
“You look nice, by the way,” she says later when we’re in the car and zooming down the 405 toward Beverly Hills, traffic light for once. “It’s kind of odd to see you in a suit. And to see your face.”
“My face?”
“You’ve got one hell of a jaw, you know that?”
“Should I shave more often then?” I ask, glancing at myself in the rearview mirror.
“Shave, don’t shave, scruffy, not scruffy. I like every single version of you.”
I wait for her to yammer on awkwardly as she sometimes does when she thinks she’s paid me too much of a compliment. But she doesn’t add to that.
I glance at her and her attention is out the window, watching the passing cars. Something in the car is changing,the space and air between us. There never used to be tension and now it feels thick enough to choke you. I can’t tell if it’s just that we’re going somewhere fancy, if it’s the infamous third date, or that I can still feel her lips crushed against mine, taste how sweet she is. Or maybe it’s all those reasons combined.
Whatever it is, it’s big and tangible and very real. I’m not sure how to deal with it and what it means but I know what Marina means to me.
“So what did your aunt say?” I ask.
She sighs, slipping further down in her seat as if she can hide from the question. “I wouldn’t talk about this on the third date with anyone, that’s for sure.”
“Well I don’t even talk about my own father with any of my girlfriends, so believe me, I get it.”
She glances at me thoughtfully. “Really? What do you say?”
I shrug half-heartedly. “Not much. I say my parents split and my mother remarried.”
“They never ask about your dad?”
“No…I never…it just didn’t come up. I’m not known for my deep conversations. They’d always badger me about that. ‘Why don’t you talk more, you never open up.’ Blah, blah blah.”
