We didn’t talk much on the way to the restaurant I made reservations at. I’m letting Eric take this all at his own pace. I want him to feel comfortable, like I’m not pushinghim.
Despite how he opened back up and pulled out of whatever state he’d found himself in, I can tell he’s not entirelyokay.
The more we chatted after I got back from my walk, the more I realized he needed me to be there for him. That he wasn’t as upset with me for setting him off as he was with himself for being pulled so violently from the playful moment we werehaving.
I want to know more about the reason why he behaved the way he did when I touched him like that, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it, and that’s a lot to ask, considering we haven’t known each other verylong.
I try to chase away my curiosity as I glance over themenu.
“Hmmm…I guess it’s either gonna be nachos or fajitas. Maybe a burrito, if I really want to be crazy,” I joke, hoping to get at least a laugh fromEric.
He chuckles. I’ll takeit.
He gazes up at me from his menu, the right side of his mouth curledupward.
“I like when you make that expression,” I tell him. “I think I can get you to do that later as well. But probably not until we make it back to yourbedroom.”
“Mr. Morgan,” he says in a playfully stern tone, “the date’s just started, and I think you’re being rather presumptuous thinking we’ll make it back to mybedroom.”
“I got some pretty slick moves,” I boast. “Been a little out of practice, but I’m fairly sure it works the same with guys as it does forgirls.”
“I assume you’re talking about the flirtingpart.”
“Eh, some of the foreplay too, it seems like. Although I have very limited experience, so I could bemistaken.”
He rolls his eyes, but judging by the amusement on his face, he appreciates the lightness of thisconversation.
I’m being sillier than normal, not on purpose. It’s like everything in me is working to set Eric at ease…to remind him I’m on his side and not judging him for whatever happenedearlier.
After the waiter takes our order, we chat a little about the weather tomorrow and what time he thinks we should gosurfing.
The waiter brings our food, and Eric takes a bite of his nachos when I ask, “You know of any good places to go dancing aroundhere?”
I seem to have caught him off guard because he pulls the half-eaten bean-and-cheese-drenched chip away from his mouth. Some beans and cheese drip down onto his plate, and he grabs his napkin and runs it across his face, then puts it back in hislap.
“There’s actually a really good place,” he finally manages to respond. “Although it’s a gaybar.”
I lean toward him. “Well, in case you haven’t caught on, Eric, I’m kinda fine withgay.”
I reach across the table and run my thumb under his bottom lip, collecting a bit of the beans and salsa he missed. I pull my hand back and lick my thumb to accentuate my point and hopefully turn him on a little bitmore.
I see that desire in his eyes, that look that always makes me feel like he’s never looked at another guy likethis.
“Do you like to go out dancing?” I askhim.
“I do, actually. I haven’t been out in a while, but that would be reallynice.”
“Good, because I didn’t have any other plans for the later part of ourdate.”
“Oh really? I assumed I knew where you wanted this date to endup.”
“Eventually itneedsto end up there, but I have to show you I’m more than what I can do in thebedroom.”
“You’ve already shown methat.”
His expression is so serious that I have to ask, “What do youmean?”
“I just understand that you are much, much more than anything I could’ve initially suspected. In a very goodway.”
