I shrug my shoulders. “Who names all their kids with the same letter?”
He squints his eyes in silent question. “My parents.”
I chuckle. I never even realized Kai and Kevin are both K names. “There’s another thing we have in common.”
“Sirloin steak tips for you,” the waitress says, placing the plate in front of Kai. “And chocolate banana pancakes for you,” she addresses me. “Can I get you anything else?”
“I think we’re good. Thank you.”
I wasn’t too hungry, so I decided to order pancakes even though I had them for breakfast earlier. You can never go wrong with pancakes.
“So, am I the only girl you’re seeing?” I hope he isn’t involved with someone else. We’ve never talked about this. I have a feeling I’m the only one, but given my history with the other guys I’ve dated, I would always find out they were talkingto other girls behind my back. I don’t want to be just another one of those girls again.
He chokes back his food, clearly surprised at my question. “Yes. Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Everyone else I’ve ever dated was talking to other girls behind my back,” I admit.
We’ve been together a lot since we first met. We’ve kissed a lot. More than I have ever kissed another guy before. I like Kai a lot. I don’t want this to be another stupid fling.
“I’m not like other guys, Blakely. You can trust me. You’re the only one I’m talking to.”
I can’t help but bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling.
We’ve hung out quite a bit since meeting only a month ago. The time has gone by so quickly. Is he ever going to ask me to be his girlfriend? How long does it take for guys to ask?
“You need to stop doing that?”
I raise my brows. “Doing what?”
“Biting your lip?”
“Why?”
“It turns me on.”
I giggle and let my grin widen.
“Are you talking to anyone else?”
“Nope. Just you.” I take a bite of my pancake, letting the buttery cake melt into my mouth.
“I’m glad. You can’t talk to anyone else but me.”
“Then you can’t talk to anyone else either,” I demand.
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
Ripples of warmth course through every fiber of my being. Those are the words I’ve been dying to hear. I guess it could be interpreted as controlling—him telling me not to talk to anyone else—but it makes me feel better. He wants it to be me and him and no one else.
“Can I ask you another question?” I look over at him and notice he’s finishing up his plate, and I’m barely halfway done with my pancakes. My excitement over this talk made me forget about my dinner.
“You can always ask me anything, B.”
That’s the first time he’s ever called me that. It sounds good, the way it seamlessly rolls off his tongue. It sounds so flirtatious.
“Do you feel like I’m too immature for you?”
He gazes at me with one brow up. Embarrassment clouds my mind, making me regret asking.
