Page 6 of Spoiling Lillian
She shrugs. “It’s good for them to have options in case someone in the party doesn’t eat meat.”
I turn toward her when I stop at a light. “Or if the person isn’t vegetarian but their date makes them nervous.” I wink at her.
“See? You get it.”
I definitely don’t get it, but I’ve never been more entertained in my life. “What comes after vegetarian?”
“In this case, the baked chicken with steamed vegetables.”
I scrunch up my face. “You have a thing against your food having any flavor?”
She giggles again, which was my intention. “No. I just like chicken.”
“Tell me, sweet girl, under what conditions you would order the chicken. Should I be scared?”
“No, silly. I would order the chicken if I wasn’t too nervous to chew and I thought there was a solid chance you would end up kissing me and as we walked through the restaurant to our table I thought the steaks on everyone’s plates looked icky.”
“Icky?” I’ve never been on a better date, and we’re not even at the restaurant yet.
Chapter 3
Lillian
* * *
I was so worried when Bryson picked me up, but for some reason, he calms my nerves. I think it’s the fact that he keeps smiling at me. He turned toward me often during the drive. He held my hand on the way to the truck and then as we entered the restaurant. And now he’s sitting across from me, holding my gaze.
He hasn’t glanced away. He’s the most attentive date I’ve ever been on.
Granted, I haven’t been on many dates. On top of that, every date I’ve ever had was with someone either chosen by or approved by my mother. Guys don’t tend to want to go out with a girl again after enduring the vetting process at Casa Lighton.
In any case, no guy I ever dated cared much about me. They were all either fulfilling a request from their own parents or seeing the dollar signs a connection with me would come with. It was maddening and frustrating, so I gave up on trying a long time ago.
Bryson’s eyes are dancing as he reaches across the table to take my hand in his. He strokes my knuckles with his thumb as he asks, “So, what’s the verdict?”
I giggle. I know he’s referring to my meal choice. “Definitely steak.”
“Whew. That’s a relief. I didn’t like the other options.”
“There’s nothing wrong with shrimp, chicken, or vegetarian meals,” I tell him.
His eyes keep wrinkling when he smiles. “Not at all. But I don’t like the idea of you being so nervous you’re afraid you can’t chew. I would hate to think you thought the steaks here looked icky because that would mean my restaurant choice is horrible. And most importantly, it would crush me if you ruled out kissing me at the end of the night.”
I giggle, which has happened several times since he picked me up. I need to stop it. Bryson isn’t interested in a silly girl. He’s fourteen years older than me. He’s not a Daddy Dom. If I don’t stop acting like a Little, he’s never going to want to see me again. And I already know I want to go out with him again.
The problem is that I’ve been spending a lot of time with my sister, who’s Little. She’s living her best life. Until I arrived in Seattle, I had no experience with age play. I knew Simone was Little, but I hadn’t fully grasped what that entailed.
The truth is I’m jealous of her lifestyle. Not in a mean way. More like in an enlightening way. She has the most incredible playroom. It’s pink and frilly and filled with all the things she and I never got to play with growing up.
It’s not that we didn’t have toys. It’s that we rarely had the freedom to just be children and play. There were always music lessons and tennis practice. We went to etiquette school and learned Latin. Latin, of all things. We had to be dressed at the dinner table and sit properly even when there were no guests. If I never eat off another piece of fine china again, it will be too soon.
Nevertheless, I sober, schooling my face and smoothing my skirt with my free hand, vowing to stop acting like a Little. I’m not impressing Bryson with that.
Bryson narrows his eyes. “What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“One second you were laughing; the next second your face fell as if you remembered it’s not appropriate to laugh.”
