“The first time I saw you, it was like time stood still, you’re so beautiful, it took my breath away.” In that moment, I could feel my heart ripping open.
Zoe rolled her eyes and pulled her hand away.
“You don’t have to do this,” she huffed. “This is fake, remember? I know men like you don’t find women like me attractive.”
“Men like me?” I was confused, I was a single dad in his thirties. I had greys appearing daily and my body had started developing aches in places I didn’t know existed.
“Yeah, you know, hot, buff, the kind that has women chasing after them all the time. Why would you want the fat chick?” Zoe sounded defeated.
“I don’t… you know what? It doesn’t matter what other women think of, because what does matter is that I don’t see you as ‘the fat chick’. I see you as the woman whose smile makes my heart race and whose curves have been driving me wild for months. You have no idea how hard it’s been to fight this attraction I have for you.”
“Then why have you?” she asked me like she was calling me out, like that was the biggest lie of the night.
“I thought you were leaving, I didn’t want to start something with an expiration date.” The words hung in the air between us.
“And now?” Her eyes met mine in tentative hope.
“Now I want to stop fake dating you.”
Chapter nine
Zoe
Iwas taken aback by Damien’s words, all of them. I was used to people telling me that I was pretty for a fat girl or that I would be so much prettier if I lost a little weight. What I wasn’t used to was a man telling me that he desired me, curves and all.
“You want to stop this? Tell your parents that I was lying?” I asked, it was easier to assume the worst than to hope that he wanted me.
“No, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. What I’m proposing is that we date for real.” Then he sat back, looking a little embarrassed. “But only if you want to, I don’t want to assume. You might not even want to really date me…”
“Damien?” I held his eyes in mine. “Just ask me.”
“Zoe, would you like to date me for real?” The hesitation in his voice was cute, like he really wasn’t confident that I would give him the answer we both wanted me to give.
“Does that mean I can get a kiss goodnight?” I couldn’t help but tease him a little.
“You can get as many kisses you want, whenever you want, wherever you want them,” Damien growled and I felt tingles in places that only romance books inspired.
I blushed thinking of all the places I’d like for Damien to kiss me then changed the subject. If he’d asked me out when we first met, I wasn’t sure I would’ve said yes, Christian had run a tank over my trust and I honestly didn’t think I would want to date again. Anyone. Not one of the average looking men that Mum had been trying to set me up with and especially not men as hot as Damien. I mean he was the single dad, tradie wet dream who probably had women hitting on him at P&C meetings and netball games.
I wasn’t used to men flirting with me, each relationship I’d been in was usually an awkward coupling with someone that I thought was ‘alright’. Never had I dated a man who made me weak at the knees just by looking at me and the way he was looking at me told me he was just as hungry for those kisses as I was. Maybe more than kisses.
Damien let me lead the conversation away from the status of our fledgling relationship and onto the noughties indie rock bands we both enjoyed so much. He casually suggested that we go watch Mason King the next time he did an acoustic gig at his parent’s resort. Both of us were surprised that the lead singer of our old favourite band was a Hartwood Bay local.
We settled the bill at Bruno’s and headed back to Damien’s car, this time he tentatively reached out for my hand and I swooned. It was less contact than when he’d had his hand on my waist earlier, but it felt like it was genuine. He wasn’t putting on a show.
As we approached the car, butterflies multiplied inside my tummy, the public part of this date was coming to an end and since we’d just decided to make this situation real, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I felt like I was back in high school except Iwasn’t the one receiving the “will you be my girlfriend? Yes/No” note, not the designated frumpy friend who was delivering it.
Damien walked me to my door and we stood there, heated stares growing in intensity. I leaned back against the ute and he leaned in towards me.
“I’m not good at dating, but is this when we do the goodnight kiss?” He smelled faintly of aftershave, pasta sauce and something uniquely him, not in an overpowering way, but the way that made you want to cuddle up with his hoodie long after he’d left the room. I was transfixed by the deep chocolate brown of his eyes as his face inched toward me ever so slowly.
“Yes,” I released on a breath and then his lips met mine, tentative, but firm and I melted into him.
Damien’s hand gently cupped my jaw, his thumb caressing my cheek as I opened up to him and his tongue met mine. Time stood still as we kissed, I was vaguely aware of the gentle breeze blowing across the bay, the sound of cars in the distance but in that moment, I was lost. With one kiss Damien had me more worked up than any man I’d shared a bed with.
We pulled apart but he rested his forehead on mine, not distancing his body from mine. “Can we go home?” I whispered, hoarsely.
He looked down at me and pecked my lips gently again before opening my door for me. The drive back to the house was a sly form of torture and tension between us was high by the time Damien parked his ute in the driveway.
