Page 25 of The Front Runner
He’s standing at the stove right now, stirring something that smells unbelievable. His body sways gently with the motion of the whisk, and his ass fills out the dark jeans he’s wearing in a way that has me gawking while quietly sipping my wine.
“Gross,” Nadia huffs as she slides onto the stool beside me.
“What?” I say, pretending something interesting above the cabinets has caught my eye rather than her brother’s ass.
But she’s not buying it. She quirks a brow and gives me an unimpressed look. Yup,nothing short with this one.
“Men suck,” she says, and I see Stefan stiffen out of the corner of my eye. “Be careful.”
I lean forward and stare at my glass, watching the red liquid slosh against the sides as I swivel it on the white marble countertop. “Some do. They aren’t all bad. Principal Cooper sounds like a real piece of shit though.”
She snorts. “On that, we can agree.” A small smile touches her pink lips. “Total pig.”
“Have you considered finishing what you need to finish online? That’s easily done now. I did that in university with a couple of classes.”
“Really?” Her voice sounds hopeful as she fiddles with her fingers, elbows propped on the edge of the counter.
“Definitely. Grab your laptop. Let’s look it up while he finishes cooking.”
She bounds out of the kitchen almost instantly with a hopeful smile on her face, blonde waves bouncing as she goes. When Stefan turns around, his eyes find mine, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking. Can’t tell if I’ve overstepped. He leans back on the opposite countertop, palms against the edge of the marble, and stares at me like he’s never seen me before this moment.
“What?” I ask, struggling to catch my breath.
His green eyes twinkle as they scour my face, tracing every feature like it’s the first time. And then he shakes his head and turns back to the stove. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.”
When Nadia returns, we search the web for what her options are while I polish off a third glass of wine. On one hand, I feel like I’m completely ignoring Stefan. On the other, I’m not sure I care. I’m having fun helping Nadia.
This date isn’t so bad after all.
Once Stefan finishes cooking, Nadia and I set the table while chatting about her strengths and favorite subjects at school. Math and sciences are a breeze. It’s the language arts and language-based classes that are killing her. She’s fluent in French and Romanian, so English is her third language. I can barely speak two languages. According to my family, my Punjabi is an ‘embarrassment,’ so in my book, struggling with her third one is understandable.
The duck dish Stefan made is heaven. Crispy skin, served over a bed of creamy polenta with a fresh bitter-greens salad topped with blue cheese and walnuts.
“Oh my god,” I moan. I’m feeling loose from the wine and, in the back of my mind, I identify the sound as almost sexual, but I don’t care. It is truly succulent. “The only thing missing is a blueberry reduction for the duck.”
“Yeah?” Stefan asks with a quirk of his head as he sips a glass of wine from the second bottle.
“Yeah. My parents own a blueberry farm. I’ll hook you up when they come into season.”
“Can I come pick blueberries?” Nadia asks excitedly.
I snort. The charm of picking berries has pretty much completely worn off for me. People actually pay my parents to come pick their own berries, something that never fails to make me chuckle. But I refuse to quash her enthusiasm. “Of course.”
Dinner carries on much the same, but I still catch Stefan staring at me over the candle lit in the middle of the table. The flame highlights the blend of colors in his irises—the greens, the golds. His eyes are beautiful, and throughout the meal, I remind myself not to get lost in them. Inhim.
“That was incredible.” I lean back and toss my napkin on the table beside my very empty plate. “Thank you.” I smile at him, and it’s genuine.
I’ve had a thoroughly enjoyable night. Relaxing even. I’ve felt my carefully placed walls crumble, and right now I don’t feel like beating myself up about it. There’s something distinctly intimate about tonight. Something sweet that I don’t want to over-analyze.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t need to leave before I do something I’ll regret.
“Nadia, do you have your driver’s license?” I ask, staring at the glass of sparkling water before her.
She scoffs, sounding distinctly teenager-like in that moment. “Of course, I do.”
She hasn’t touched the wine tonight. At nineteen, she’s of legal age here, but she hasn’t asked, and Stefan hasn’t offered. “Would you be willing to drive me home and then pick me up tomorrow morning?”
She shrugs. “Sure.”
