“So what is yours?” she asks me and I look at her.
“I’m not sure, I guess it’s going to be lame.” I chuckle at my own response. “But as long as I’m with my kids and with whoever I share my life with, I guess that would be my dream destination. It would definitely have to be a beach though. My kids love the beach, I love the beach.”
“What’s not to love about the beach,” she jokes with me.
“Have you ever had sex on the beach?”
“One, it’s not your turn,” she reminds me, reaching for the bottle of wine but I stop her and reach out at the same time as she does, our fingers touching. We stay like that for longer than we should, before she moves her hand away. “But to answer your question. Yes.” I don’t know why, but my heart sinks. “I have had the drink and I don’t recommend it.” She snorts, laughing, and for the first time in a while, so do I.
twenty-two
Kylie
“One, it’s not your turn,” I tell him, reaching for the bottle of wine, but he stops me when he reaches out at the same time as I do. Our fingers touch and it feels like an electric current shooting up my arm. I move my hand away, watching his eyes watch me, waiting for my answer to his question—which I know is sexual—but I’m not going there with him, or at least that’s the plan.
But you know how these things go, sometimes plans just go out the window. “But to answer your question. Yes”—I see the ire in his eye, and I have to stop myself from busting out laughing—“I have had the drink and I don’t recommend it.” I can’t help it, I snort-laugh and so does he. His blue eyes turn crystal blue when he’s laughing, and they are the most magnificent eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. “What about you?” He fills my glass with wine.
“I don’t recommend the drink either.” He smirks, his eyes never leaving my wine glass and then he puts the bottle away. “But it’s not my turn.”
I pick up my glass, bringing it to my lips. “Who is your celebrity crush?”
He laughs as he shocks me by taking off his jacket, and my eyes see his bare arms. I have to swallow before I moan out loud. I drink a sip of wine to stop myself from saying anything I shouldn’t say. “Celebrity crush.” He tosses his jacket to the side of his chair. “Hmm,” he hums, thinking, “I don’t even think I have one.”
“Everyone has one,” I reply, rolling my eyes.
“Who is yours?”
You, my brain screams. “Kevin Costner,” I answer without skipping a beat, “or that other guy from the show. Kip.” I’m not sure of his name. “Rip.”
“You don’t even know his name?” He laughs at me.
“I don’t have to watch the show to enjoy the fineness that he is.” I wink at him, making him laugh, and I have to say, I really fucking like his laugh. “The way that man rides that horse.” I close my eyes and hold up my hands and do a little dance. “I mean, I would even let them tag team me,” I open my eyes, “and I’m not even into that. But—” He rolls his eyes, and I stop. “There has to be someone you’ve seen in a movie or whatever and you’re like ‘I’d do her.’” I watch him. “Could even be a porn star, if that’s the kind of movies you like to watch. This is a no judgment zone.” I open my hand and do a circle on top of the table. He glares at me. “There is nothing wrong with watching porn.”
“You watch porn?” His eyes light up.
“You really have never played this game before.” I chuckle. “You can save that question for when it’s your turn. Now it’s mine.”
“Fine, I don’t know, Scarlett Johansson.” He scrubs his hands down his face.
“Very good choice,” I approve and he shakes his head, smiling. The waiter comes over and I grab my menu, looking up at him. “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” he replies, grabbing his own menu. I don’t know why I was scared he was going to say he wasn’t going to eat and he was leaving, but I was. I look down at the menu, trying to calm down my nerves and pretend that sitting across from him has no effect on me. When in fact it does, greatly. When I walked into the restaurant and they walked me to his table, I was seething. One, I was pissed about thinking I got played, and two, I was pissed he was actually going to go on a date. Fine, I was also, but that’s his fault he didn’t message me.
We order a few appetizers to share on the table and then he orders the steak with steamed veggies. “Shocking,” I mumble while I order the chicken parm with spaghetti on the side.
I smile at the waiter, who turns to leave. “Okay, whose turn is it?” I ask and he points to himself while he takes a sip of his sparkling water. “Here we go,” I mumble, thinking he’s going to ask me if I watch porn.
“If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” He puts down his glass and looks at me.
“I’d want to be taller,” I answer without skipping a beat. “I’m like five six right now, I’d love to be five nine, but like all legs.”
“Your legs are sexy as fuck already,” he says, and I think he shocked himself that he said it out loud.
“Thank you.” I wink at him, and he shakes his head. “What about you?”
“I’d be a better dad,” he says softly and my heart sinks.
“Knox, I’m sure you’re a great dad.”
