And I did. His big, brown eyes looked at me with undivided interest. “So glad you agreed to go out with me,” he said, trying a typical first-date line. As if we hadn’t done all the unholy things to each other’s bodies already.
A waitress came around and greeted us, giving us menus and recommending dishes. When she asked if we knew what we wanted to drink, Damon ordered a bottle of wine by name and vintage. As the waitress walked away, a chuckle escaped me. “No way you know wines by their year,” I said.
Damon shot me a wounded look, then grinned. “No, but I read up on the selection they have.”
A few moments later, the waitress returned with the bottle of wine and an elegant crystal vase with a single red rose in it. She placed the rose on the table and unscrewed the cork, then poured a splash for Damon to try. He did, pretending like he knew something about wine, then nodded for the waitress to pour us a glass each. She left the bottle on the table when she left with our food orders.
“A rose? Nobody else has it,” I said, glancing around the restaurant. It was a custom order.
“Is it a date if there isn’t something pretty to look at?” Damon asked. He was so at ease doing this, so relaxed and confident and over-the-top romantic that it messed with me.
The heat pooled in my stomach, making it very hard to remember that we were each other’s fun without the strings attached.
Damon threaded his fingers together and put his elbows on the table, leaning in, eyes only looking at me. “Tell me about yourself. What’s Seth Kane like?”
I laughed. “You know me, Damon.”
“You’d be surprised how little I pay attention,” he teased.
After another laugh, I decided to play along. “Very well. I’m a, uh, what you’d call a nerd.”
His eyebrows danced playfully. “Anakin Skywalker was my sexual awakening.”
“No way he was,” I said.
Damon nodded. “Sure was. When he says he hates sand, says it’s rough and coarse and gets everywhere. It was like, ‘This guy gets it.’”
I laughed so loudly that heads turned to our table. That he could even quote it was a miracle. “We don’t discuss the quality of dialogue, Damon.”
“Wonder why,” he said. “It’s like poetry on crack.”
“But it’s fun,” I said.
“And I’m not kidding. There was a promo poster with Anakin wearing that hood that just made something click in my head. Well, I say head, but…” He glanced down in the direction of his lap, and I laughed again, hiding my face behind the wine glass.
“Seems like I wasn’t paying attention either,” I said. “I never knew that about you.”
“I bet you thought I was just a performative gym rat with a body to die for,” he said.
“Eh. To die for?” I shrugged.
He pretended to be wounded, grabbing his heart and caressing his pec for a moment or two until I smiled again.
“I’ve seen your Instagram,” I said. “You don’t do a lot to shake off that image.”
“What were you doing browsing my profile, you naughty little thing?” he said. It was a tease, but it did something ridiculous to me. It made me soften a little in my chair, made me lean in closer. He still hadn’t looked away from my eyes. How was he doing that? The weight was almost unbearable, yet without it, I would be lost.
“You crossed my mind a time or two,” I said. “This whole year since we last saw each other…a lot has happened. Sometimes, it was nice to remind myself of simpler times.”
“Was it simpler?” Damon asked, folding his arms on the table, gaze dropping to my lips as I bit them. He looked up into my eyes again. “Sneaking around seems so complicated now that I think about it.”
“It’s still the best option,” I said, drawing the line there. Why risk Nick’s anger and disappointment for something as inconsequential as a little hookup?
“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not arguing against that. There’s something very hot about tonight, Seth. Planning a place, coming separately, meeting in your room after…” He left those words hanging in the air, a grin playing across his face.
“We’ll see about that,” I said, pretending I hadn’t decided to invite him over the moment I’d turned the corner and saw him in that tight, white shirt. “Are you always this nice on dates, or am I just the lucky fifty-seven?”
“Let’s see about that after the dessert arrives. You might be sick of me by then,” he said. “It’s not like us not to wish a plague upon each other after five minutes together.”