“Absolutely. There’s something about creating a meal, the flavors, the aromas ... it’s all part of the experience.”
Her gaze meets mine, and there’s a hint of something more in her eyes, a depth that hints at something I can’t quite read.
I’m about to ask her what she’s thinking when she leans forward with a mischievous grin and whispers, “Let’s play a game. Truth for a truth. Are you game?”
Again, the memory of Nocté flares to life at the edges of my consciousness. I suck in a quick breath, watching her for the briefest of moments. But the only thing I see reflecting back from her is curiosity.
“All right.” I nod, clearing my throat, and deciding to steer clear of the same truths I gave that night. “I, uh used to be terrified of dogs as a kid. Took me years to get over that fear.”
Carlie leans back, pressing the palm of her hand over her heart. “Really? I would’ve never guessed.”
“It’s not the highlight of my childhood, that’s for sure,” I chuckle, taking a bite of my pasta. “Your turn.”
She taps her chin for a moment, making a show of searching hard for whatever truth she plans on sharing. Finally, she offers, “I once sang karaoke in a panda costume. It was a hit at the party, but I’ve never been able to live it down. Grandma’s bingo ladies still try to get me to wear it every Halloween.”
I laugh, trying hard not to choke on my spaghetti. “Now, this costume sounds like something I need to see.”
She shakes her head, scooping up a bite for herself. “Not a chance.”
We continue back and forth, sharing truths that range from silly to personal. With each exchange, the air between us becomes charged with an unspoken understanding, a connection that’s growing deeper by the moment.
As dinner progresses, our conversation flows effortlessly. It’s like I’ve known her my whole life. Not just a few weeks.
When we’ve finished eating, we naturally gravitate towards the living room, leaving our plates abandoned on the table. The couch welcomes us with its comfortable embrace, and we sink into it side by side. The dim lighting from the candles left in the kitchen casts a soft glow, adding to the warmth of the moment as I light a couple more around us.
I toss a cushion onto her lap playfully. “For extra comfort,” I say with a wink.
She catches it with a laugh. “Thanks, I’m all about the comfort.”
We start talking about random things—favorite movies, embarrassing childhood memories, the worst dates we’ve ever been on. Carlie’s stories are peppered with her signature wit, making me laugh more than I have in a long time.
“Okay, your turn. Worst date?” I prompt, leaning in with genuine curiosity.
She groans, rolling her eyes. “Oh, where do I start? There was this one time I went out with a guy who talked about his ex the entire dinner. Like, I knew more about her by the end of the night than I knew abouthim.”
I burst out laughing, the sound echoing in the room. “That’s brutal. Did you ever see him again?”
“Not a chance,” she says, shaking her head. “I noped out of there so fast. There’s only so much bandwidth for dating drama and I reserve that for my books.”
Her words jolt me a bit, making my insides constrict as I think back to Jillian and her comments on Instagram. But I shake it off, refusing to allow that woman to ruin the wonderful night that’s spread out before us.
The conversation continues to flow effortlessly, each story and confession drawing us closer, both physically and emotionally. I find myself sharing things with Carlie that I haven’t told anyone. Her presence makes it feel safe to open up.
As we talk, our bodies inch closer, the space between us diminishing until her legs rest over mine and our hands are intertwined. The physical contact sends a torrent of sparks through me, signaling a connection that’s deepening with every word we share.
At some point, Carlie leans her head against my shoulder, and I instinctively wrap my arm around her. She fits perfectly against me, as if she’s meant to be there.
I’m about to launch into another story when Carlie shifts, her gaze lifting to meet mine. Her eyes hold a mixture of warmth and something more—an unspoken invitation. Her hand gently brushes against my cheek, sending shivers up and down my spine.
I turn my head slightly, our faces inches apart. There’s a hesitation, a moment where everything seems to pause, the air thick with anticipation.
Then, as if drawn by an invisible force, our lips meet in a tentative, exploratory kiss. It’s soft at first, a whisper of a touch, but it quickly deepens, fueled by pent-up emotions and an undeniable chemistry between us.
The kiss ignites a fire, and we both yield to it, our movements syncing in a dance as old as time. Carlie’s hand finds its way to my hair, tugging gently, eliciting a groan from deep within me. I let my hands roam, exploring the curve of her back, and pulling her closer, so I can deepen the kiss.
We break apart for a moment, gasping for air, our foreheads resting against each other. Our eyes meet, and there’s a silent understanding, a shared desire that needs no words.
Carlie’s breath hitches slightly as she whispers, “Adam, I want ...”