Pretty Boy:
Is now too soon?
I frowned. Thanks to my self-wallowing, my home was less than visitor friendly. It wasn’t dirty by any means, but more lived-in than I was used to people seeing.
I haven’t cleaned
Pretty Boy:
And I give a shit? Dude, u saw my room, cmon.
He was right.
Ok. You like chicken?
Pretty Boy:
I’m not picky.
Give me ur address before I change my mind tho
“Holy fuck, this is so good.”Crew moaned, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a sinfully orgasmic expression.
“Glad you like it.”
“You should have your own restaurant.”
I huffed out a short laugh, cutting into my food. “I’m not on that level.”
“Not on that level?” He scooped a bite onto his fork, shoving it into his mouth. Without even waiting to swallow, he mumbled through chews. “Sure fuckin’ tastes like it. What even is this? I’ve never had chicken like this, and I’m from the south, so I’ve had a lot of chicken.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s bourbon pecan. Slow down or you’ll choke at this rate.”
He shook his head, gulping his bite loudly. “Nah, I don’t choke. And I hate how you saypuh-kahn.”
“You’re not in the South anymore, Pretty Boy.”
“That’s for fucking sure.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. It had been a long time since someone enjoyed my food like this. Not the shit I helped cook at work sometimes. Crew ate everything with something like passion, appreciating it even as he inhaled it.
Halfway through my chicken, I finally gathered the courage to speak up. “So, how did it go with Willow?”
Crew paused, setting his fork down in exchange for the glass of water beside him. He shrugged as he sipped. “She misunderstood. We talked a lot, trying to understand each other’s perspectives. She knows how I am and assumed you were like the rest of them.”
“Like the Johns?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “But she gets it now. I think. I let it slip that we knew each other before you offered me the job.”
I winced. “Oh, yeah.”
“She wasn’t happy that I didn’t tell her. I told her about how gentle you are, though. That got her attention.” I watched him sloppily cut away at the chicken on his plate. “I thought her face was gonna get stuck the way she looked at me when I said I kissed you.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “Another thing you don’t usually do?”
“More like I’ve never done,” he mumbled, avoiding saying much else by shoveling food into his mouth.
I leaned back in my chair, admiring him for a moment. His cheek was bruised and purple, marring the prominent bone there. “Willow sounds like a good friend. You two seem really close.”
