* * *
Claire sits in front of me in a pretty little black dress. Her smooth, tan legs were driving me wild the entire drive here. I couldn’t help rubbing my hands up and down her thighs while she danced around to music.
I brought her to one of the nicer restaurants in the college area, so nice in fact that they have a god damn dress code.
This suit is really starting to itch.
She almost choked when she saw me waiting outside for her in my black dress pants and button down. I had to try so hard to pretend like I didn’t notice her clench her legs… who knew all it would take was a simple outfit to get this girl riled up.
A menu covers the bottom half of her face, and every once in a while she’ll glance up at me nervously. She stares at the chain around my neck, then my lips, and then finally makes her way up to my eyes before re-focusing on the menu.
I haven’t picked up my menu once, and it’s making her uncomfortable. That doesn’t stop me from staring at her though, she looksstunning.Every man in this restaurant knows it too. They look at her like she’s their next meal, completely ignoring the deadly glare I send their way.
I think I’ve plotted about twelve murders so far.
The waiter comes over and very politely asks what we’d like to eat. She hesitates for a moment before pulling herself together and beaming at him, “I’ll have the chefs choice. Tell him he has full creative freedom and cost isn’t an issue.”
I keep forgetting she grew up in a well-off family, she’s used to places like this and knows exactly how to act. I, on the other hand, feel like a damn fish out of water.
“And for yourself sir?” The waiter asks, turning towards me with his notepad ready.
“That’s all, thank you.”
He walks away, and Claire looks at me, “aren’t you going to order?” She shifts uncomfortably in her chair before mumbling, “I wouldn’t have ordered anything if I knew you weren’t eating.”
She’s self conscious, worried I’m going to judge her because of her eating habits even though I’ve been living with her for almost three months. “Eat whatever you want pretty girl, my meal comes later.” Her cheeks tint with a heavy blush, and I can’t help but smirk. I love messing with her.
We spend the next twenty-minutes making stupid small-talk. It’s stiff and awkward, the kind of conversations you have at some stuffy event with a bunch of snotty rich people… not with the girl you’re falling for.
“This is so stupid” she mutters, “why the hell are we acting like this is the first time we’ve ever met?”
My shoulders relax, “thank god. I was starting to think I was the only one.”
She laughs, “there is no way we’re going to change who we are just because we’re dating. That’s so stupid.”
“I know right, I mean I don’t want to turn out like that couple over there.” I point behind her and she looks over her shoulder to the couple who seem to be in their late fifty’s. Both of which haven’t said a single word to one another, and keep staring at every other attractive man and woman in here.
Claire smothers a laugh by taking a sip of her water, but accidentally spits it out when I make a grossed out face.
Things seem to relax after that, and while I can tell everything is different between us now, I don’t think it’s a bad different. We spend most of our night laughing and joking about the other people around us, when she got her food she moaned so loudly the tables around us gave us questioning looks.
She lifted her fork to my lips and let me take a bite of the steak looking thing, I have to admit it was pretty damn good. I didn’t hesitate to lick my lips and say “you definitely taste better.”
She asked for the check immediately.
Now I’m driving her to the batting cages where I have an extra special surprise for her.
“What the hell are we doing here?” She asks, stepping out of the car and taking my hand.
Leading her towards the last cage without saying a word, I hand her a bat and get behind the gate. “You got a lot of anger in you sunshine, figured you could use the release.”
“I can’t bat in heals!”
She definitely can, she spins in the air on knifes for fucks sake, I’m sure she’ll manage. “Imagine the balls are the faces of the people who have fucked you over. You might be pleasantly surprised.”
The machine whirls to life and the first ball comes flying at her. She closes her eyes tight and swings, unfortunately missing.
The ball smacks against the cage in front of me and lands with a thud. She turns back and scowls, “I told you so.”
