Page 54 of Face Off
Her smile softens, and for a moment the banter fades into something quieter. Warmer.
Our food arrives, and we slip back into easy chatter. She tells me about a disastrous group project she once had in uni, how one of her teammates did nothing but still managed to take the credit. I nearly choke on my steak laughing when she admits she left passive-aggressive sticky notes all over his part of the presentation.
“You’re devious,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin.
“Strategic,” she corrects, twirling pasta around her fork. “I prefer strategic.”
“Well, remind me never to get on your bad side.”
She smirks. “You already have. Multiple times.”
I clutch my chest like I’ve been wounded. “And yet, here you are, voluntarily having dinner with me. Again.”
“Maybe I like watching you squirm.”
The heat in her gaze lingers just long enough to send a thrill racing through me. I cover it by taking a long pull of my beer, but inside, I’m buzzing.
By the time dessert menus arrive, I’m already stuffed, but Chloe insists on sharing something. We end up with a molten chocolate cake, and she laughs when I try to sneak the first bite.
“Excuse me, sir,” she says, swatting at my fork. “We’re supposed to share.”
“Sharing is not my strong suit,” I say, but I surrender anyway, cutting us even halves.
When she takes her first bite, her eyes flutter shut for a second, and my brain short-circuits. Forget the cake. Forget the restaurant. All I can think about is her.
“Good?” I ask, voice rougher than I mean it to be.
She opens her eyes, smiling. “Very.”
I grin, trying to act casual even as my pulse hammers. “Told you sharing was worth it.”
We linger long after the plates are cleared, trading stories, laughing over silly team antics, comparing the worst injuries we’ve ever had. She rolls her eyes at me when I admit I once sprained my wrist trying to do a backflip into a pool at a teammate’s party.
“You’re impossible,” she says, but she’s laughing so hard she nearly spills her wine.
And I can’t help thinking, this is it. This is what I’ve been craving. Not just the heat, not just the rush. This. Sitting across from her, talking like we’ve got all the time in the world.
When the bill comes, I don’t even give her a chance. I slap my card down, ignoring her protests.
“Ollie,”
“Nope. Not happening. I’m paying. You can get the next one.”
“The next one?” she teases, but there’s a softness in her eyes.
“Already planning it,” I say, leaning back in my seat with a smug grin. “I’m thinking mini golf. Or maybe bowling. Something I can definitely beat you at.”
She snorts. “Please. You’d lose on purpose just to make me smile.”
And yeah, she’s not wrong.
The drive back to her flat is quiet, but it’s the good kind. She rests her hand on my thigh, casual, and my whole body hums with it.
When we pull up, I don’t want the night to end. Not ever. But she leans over, kisses my cheek, and whispers, “Come in for coffee?”
And just like that, every nerve in me sparks to life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
