I can tell you that anything here is good. The mozzarella sticks and loaded cheese fries are my favorites. Did you want an appetizer?
The hostess must get the point when I slide the notebook over to Bayleigh and hand her the pen to respond back to me.
Can we get both.? They’re both my favs and I don’t know if I can choose between them.
She goes to slide it back over to me, but stops, and writes something else, before giving it back to me.
PS. I love this. That you brought a notebook for us to communicate with.. It makes everything seem more personal.
We debate over the menu, and she tells me what she wants to eat, so that I can just tell the server.
Everything feels perfect. Nothing can tarnish these moments we’re sharing.
We end up playing our own version of twenty questions to get to know each other, even though it’s way more than twenty we end up asking each other.
We only take a break long enough to eat when our food arrives.
Picking up the ketchup, I squirt a good-sized amount onto my plate and see her fingers reaching over, snagging a fry, and taking a bite of it.
“We have a fry thief,” I joke, making sure she can see my lips.
She just shrugs her shoulders and steals another one, giggling as she does it.
Maybe I like your fries more than I like you.
I know from the twinkling in her eyes that she’s teasing.
Good thing I don’t mind sharing.
I write back, sliding the notebook back over to her as I lean in closer, kissing her softly on the cheek, while stealing a fry off her plate. Making sure that there’s a big production when I eat it.
She gives me a playful swat before picking up the pen and scribbling out another message. Fun fact: I love that my girl is a leftie like me.
You… you really mean it? About helping me? With my heat. I don’t want you to think that you have to.
There’s not a doubt in my mind, Bayleigh. In fact, it’s all I’ve been thinking about since last night. I’m honored you even asked.
She casts her eyes down when she reads my message, and I take the opportunity to steal a mozzarella stick from her. Sheswipes at my hand, snagging it back before I even get to take a bite of the cheesy goodness.
My hands tighten on the wheel as I drive. I hate that I’m taking her home tonight instead of to my house. But I can be patient; it’s one of the key features of courting. My heart longs for the day that my home will also be hers.
When I turn onto her street, I pull off to the side, just before her house. There’s nothing but trees beside us; it’s the perfect place to steal a few moments together without prying eyes.
She looks over at me, confused. There’s just enough light coming from the dash and the streetlights that she can see my face to read my lips.
“I wanted to kiss you, without risking your parents or brother catching us.”
She laughs. Soft and sweet.
“Then what are you waiting for?” she asks.
Her words fill me with fire, and I lean over toward her, pressing my lips to hers. But this isn’t going to work.
“Let’s move to the backseat,” I tell her as I pull away.
She nods, immediately opens her door, and gets in the back as I hurry and do the same.
We kiss again, softly. But it quickly turns into something hotter. I press her back against the seat, our scents mixing together, creating an intoxicating aroma. I can smell the heady scent of her slick.
