I don’t fail to notice the bit of edginess that creeps back into the shrug he gives me. “Somewhere new I guess.”
His obviously dismissive answer only leaves me curious to know more, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to push the subject.
Like he’s realized his own change in demeanor and wants to smooth it over, he flashes me an apologetic grin before stuffing his hands in his pockets and tilting his head back up to scan the sky again. “What about you, sunshine? Do you like the snow?”
“I do. I grew up in the Midwest, and even though I always got kind of tired of winter there, I miss it now.”
Nerves churn in my stomach as I teeter on the edge of what I want to say, and before I can second guess myself, I let the words slip out. “Right now though, I’m mostly hoping it snows so you can see it.”
He doesn’t answer or turn his head toward me, but when I anxiously glance over at him to check his response, my pulse leaps at the almost shy, startled smile that’s spread across his still upturned face.
By the time we push through the door into the steamy warmth of the restaurant, Tristan’s pale cheeks and nose arepink from the cold, and, despite the silence we’d finished the walk in, something comfortable and familiar seems to have settled around us. My first-date nerves are nothing more than a dull hum in the background as the server shows us to a tiny round table in a corner of the small space.
The restaurant I’ve brought us to is the opposite of fancy. It’s just a hole in the wall, with only a few crowded tables set with paper napkins and plastic-covered menus. The place is one of my favorites though, and as the complex, spicy fragrance and constant stream of customers toting out packed to-go bags attest, the food here is incredible.
As Tristan slips into the chair I’ve pulled out for him, he looks up at me with a look of sweet surprise that quickly morphs into an appreciative smile. My cheeks warm and my pulse jumps as his coppery-green flecked hazel eyes meet mine through his dark lashes, and long after I’ve settled in my own chair across the table from him, I can’t stop wondering if the seductive edge to his expression could possibly have been intentional.
That it could have been feels ludicrous, but so does the mere fact that the two of us are even here together at all. How on Earth am I, a shy, awkward, and reclusive perpetual grad student, actually sitting across the table from a man as gorgeous and vibrantly dazzling as Tristan?
Compared to the temperature outside, the small, cozy space is sweltering, and as I shrug out of my coat and scarf, I wish I’d worn something lighter than the thick sweater I’m now stuck in. Across from me, Tristan, who is apparently suffering from no such regrets, pauses midway through pulling off his jacket and sweatshirt to toss me a slow, lopsided smirk as he catches me watching him before continuing to peel away the extralayers, leaving nothing more than the shirt he wears beneath.
In a ridiculously belated attempt to hide the way I’ve just been caught staring, I snatch up my menu, turning my attention to the familiar list of options.
“Do you want to get a couple things to share?” I ask, not trusting myself to look up as I work to keep my voice even, like nothing just happened.
“Yeah. Sounds nice.”
Jesus, is it normal that I know, simply from hearing the tone of his answer, that he’s smiling just enough for his dimple to press into his cheek?
“What’s good here?”
Tristan’s question draws my eyes back up to his, still fixed on my face, that smirk still tugging at his lips. And, sure enough, there’s that dimple.
“The green curry’s amazing,” I run my finger down to hover over the curry section of the menu, “but only if you don’t mind it a little hot.”
His smirk suddenly turns wicked as he leans in across the table, dropping his voice to whisper in a seductive purr, “Mmm, I love it hot, sunshine. The hotter the better.”
I nearly drop my menu as he draws upright again, chuckling at what I can feel must be the reddest blush in the history of the world spreading across my face and down my neck.
“Sorry,” he grins with a contagious, irresistible laugh that I can’t help echoing. “It was too good an opportunity to pass up. Seriously though? Yeah, I’m down for some spice. In mycurry,” he adds with overblown emphasis, shaking his head as he shoots me another wicked smirk. “Really, I’ll eat anything and love it. Since you know this place, how about you order whatever you like best?”
A touch of fresh heat creeps through me. Partly, it’s at the casual, easy way he so effortlessly and so confidently knows how to throw me for a loop, but also just as much at the small act of trust he’s passed me in asking me to choose food for us both. There’s a close, affectionate feel to it, and dammit, I can’t help liking it way more than I probably should.
9
Jesse
“So,” Tristan’s smile widens to a grin as the server retreats from our table, menus in hand. “Seems like it’s time to even things out, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?” I blink at him in confusion as he tilts his head slightly, his lips twitching with obvious amusement beneath arched, questioning brows.
“Well, sunshine, by now you know pretty much everything there is for anyone to say about me. I’m a barista who’s almost never seen snow, moves too much, and entertains himself painting and playing the piano. All I know about you is that you grew up in the Midwest, also play the piano, and that you like soy lattes and spicy Thai food.”
His pierced eyebrow quirks higher, the smile on his face turning expectant. The openness of the expression draws out a quiet laugh from me as I lean back against my chair, watching him track my movement.
“I seriously doubt that’s all there is to know about you.” I shake my head, returning his smile as I meet his intent eyes, that contactless connection making my stomach flip and my skin warm.
He shrugs, mirroring my posture as he too leans back inhis chair, stretching his legs forward. “Then you’ll just have to wait and be surprised, won’t you?”
