CHAPTER TWO
First Date
JULIETTE
Calling it a first official date is almost funny. It implies we’ve been doing something unofficial until now. That we haven’t already enveloped each other in every crevice, like we haven’t already had her nails down my back and my mouth on her throat, her breath stuttering because she tries so hard not to sound like she needs anything. Our bodies intertwined into one most nights and our minds melded together every morning.
This isn’t our first anything. But it is outside of school confines, and it surprisingly doesn’t worry me.
I picked the place weeks ago. I wanted to start our summer off with a delicate affair. I don’t want a casual little booth where teenagers whisper and watch. I don’t want somewhere loud enough that we have to lean in close and then spend the whole night wondering if leaning in close is why people are staring. Notfor a night like this. Although I don’t think Adaline would ever care about people staring at us. She is unbelievably fearless.
I texted Adaline this morning. We didn’t stay over at mine yesterday because Adam doesn’t like us doing that every night. In his words, “You’ll have each other every day when you move to Oxford.” Which was true enough. A whole apartment was waiting for us.
I don’t ask Adaline where she wants to go. I told her what time and what to wear.
Black. Simple. Don’t argue with me.
She replied quickly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I reread the messages. It’s stupid how something that small can settle me. Our last day of school was two weeks ago. Ever since then, we’ve been so busy planning the trip to Oxford, and by we I mean Adaline, because apparently the nerd in her never dies. It’s unbelievably cute, but thankfully her plan is arranged, which means I get her for the next three months entirely to myself, not sharing her with any books or binders.
She wanted to show up separately to make it feel like a real first date, so I showed up early, of course. I’ve been seated for the last five minutes, and my posture is as rigid as ever. I need this to be perfect and I’ll be damned if it’s anything less than that. My inner ramblings are cut short when I see Adaline walk in. The restaurant is fairly quiet, and the hostess brings her to the table.The ambient lighting cannot fade her beauty in the slightest. If anything, it amplifies it. I smile when I see her wearing a black dress. It’s fitted, not trying too hard, just enough to make the point. Hair done in a way she probably thinks is casual but I know isn’t. A small necklace at her throat that catches the light when she moves.
I stand up and pull her chair out for her.
“Hi,” I whisper in her ear as she sits down.
“Hi, baby,” she smiles once I’m back in my seat. The words send a shiver down my spine. They always have.
“You’re staring,” she tells me, looking almost bashful.
“You’re used to it,” I retort.
She smiles, slow and knowing. “Still rude.” I roll my eyes at her fake complaints.
“Still pretty.”
That earns me an identical eye roll that isn’t real irritation. Her gaze drifts down my outfit, the cut of my dress, the lipstick I wore because I knew she’d look at my mouth. She doesn’t compliment me right away. She never does. She likes holding her reactions back, like it makes her stronger. It doesn’t. It just makes me want to pull them out of her. She’s such a little fucking tease.
“You look…” she starts.
I arch a brow. “Go on.”
She exhales through her nose, annoyed at herself. “Like you planned this.”
“I did,” I say simply.
She shakes her head like she can’t decide if she likes that or hates it.
“You’re stunning.”
I smile, trying to contain the heat rushing to my cheeks. I lean over the table and fix the collar of her dress even though it’s fine. It’s an excuse. My fingers brush her throat. Her pulse is there, steady and hammering like crazy. I feel it, and my mouth goes dry.
“Nervous?” I tease.
“No,” she lies.
