She walks off and I step into the bathroom. It, along with the rest of this suite, smells just like her. Her sweet scent has infiltrated every inch of this room. I take it in as I relieve my bladder then wash my hands.
When I walk back into the living room, she has glasses for the drink, water bottles, and plasticware on the table. She’s sitting on the floor and her legs are stretched out under the table. Joining her, I remove my Dunks and ease down on the floor beside her.
“You don’t have to sit down here if you’re not comfortable,” she says.
“If you’re down here, I’m down here. Even though you were drunk, you invited me to be here with you. So I’m here.”
“I’m never living that down am I?” she asks with a huge smile.
“Nah. Never,” I tease. “I’m just fucking with you. I’m cool right here.”
“Good.” She hands me one of the lids from the meals. “Get what you want.”
“Pretty ladies first. I got this for you,” I insist.
She smirks before grabbing another lid. Then she grabs a fork and gets portions of everything. When she’s done, she grabs wasabi and ginger from the sushi tray. Her eyes dart toward methen she nods for me to get my food. Once my lid is loaded, we bow our heads at the same time and I say a quick prayer.
“Amen,” she says.
“Amen.”
I tackle the pasta first and she starts with her sushi. In the corner of her lid, she mixes soy sauce, a little wasabi, and ginger. The mixture has me curious as hell. I eat sushi but only the cooked stuff and all I ever do is dip it in soy sauce.
“What does that taste like?” I ask.
“A tangy little spicy piece of heaven,” she says with a smile. Then she opens another packet of plasticware, pulls out a fork, and dips a piece of the Philly roll into her mix. “Taste it,” she says while holding the fork out to me. When I hesitate for a second, she laughs. “Please don’t tell me you’re scared of a little wasabi.”
“Nah. That just looks odd as fuck,” I explain.
“Trust me. It’s really good though,” she insists. I give in, take the fork, and place the entire roll in my mouth. I can’t lie. The shit looks weird but tastes good as hell. When I smile, she says, “Told you. I know food. These hips don’t lie.”
“If sushi is responsible for those curves, keep eating it,” I tell her and she laughs.
“Wow. I walked right into that one,” she says.
“Blame it on your scrubs. That day at the office had me stuck.”
“I know. You said it all after your surgery,” she says with a grin. “Your friend kept trying to shut you up but you wouldn’t.”
“Whatever I said was true though. Like your drunk text, we speak the truth, unfiltered, when we are lit. I just hope I didn’t say something too wild that offended you,” I admit.
“Trust me, if I was offended, you would have never got my number and you definitely wouldn’t be right here with me. I do not play.”
“I believe you too.”
“As you should. You want me to change the channel on the TV?”
“You can really cut it off. I like talking. We’ve been texting all week but this is better, hearing your sexy voice is way better.” At my words, she opens the bottle and fills her glass. Then she turns the bottle to my cup. I push it closer and she fills it too. “I hope you like that,” I say.
“It’s Black Ops. What’s not to like?” she asks and grins. “But for real, I like all the specialty drinks and this is one of my favorites. Should we toast?”
“I’m cool with a toast.”
“Raise your glass then,” she says and I comply. “Let’s say… to getting to know each other?”
“To getting to know each other,” I agree and we clink glasses.
For a few moments, we just eat without words while exchanging glances. She keeps looking at me and I can’t stop staring at her. Adora is truly beautiful, everything about her—the way her big eyes drop when I catch her looking, the curve of her lips when she’s holding a smile, and even the way she keeps tucking the small piece of hair falling on the right side of her face. Her beauty is effortless, thatshe woke up like thistype shit, which makes it sexy as hell.
