We decide to skip dessert, both of us too full to bother, and he pays the bill, which earns him his final mark of the night. I close the notepad and tuck it into my back pocket, and as we’re heading out, he leans closer to me.
He doesn’t take my hand as much as I wish he would, but when we sway into each other, he doesn’t pull back.
It’s soft. Tender in ways I wasn’t expecting from him. It’s tempting me to break my rule about fucking him again because my want for his body has been simmering just under my skin all night.
But if I want this to go right—if I want to make this something more than it has been—we have to change things.
He gets the passenger-side door for me, and I smile as I get in, settling in my seat as we make the drive back home. It’s as quiet as the end of dinner, and it allows me to watch him instead of watching out for red lights and slowing cars, but I don’t mind.
It’s easy like this.
A line of tension only starts to grow between us when we reach my place. He pulls into the guest spot near my condo and puts the car in park, but he doesn’t turn it off.
He’s definitely getting a fucking demerit if he’s going to drop me at the curb like a sack of rotten potatoes. But he doesn’t. He gets out, walks to my door, then offers me a hand, his palm turned up.
I smile, thinking he might pull me in for a hug, but just before I lean into his chest, I feel his hand slip into my back pocket, snatching the notepad.
“Hey!” I shout, unthinking.
He lets out a crow of triumph and hops three steps back before flipping the cover open and reading his results. The next sound he makes is one of outrage. ‘C minus? That’s all?’
‘You’re lucky it wasn’t a D. You got a lot of negative points,’ I tell him.
He pulls a face. ‘Grade me on a curve.’
I burst into laughter. ‘You’ve been friends with Robbie for too long.’
At that, he sobers a little and nods. ‘Maybe, yes.’
There’s something there—something still a little sore, I think. I’m not going to tap on that bruise though. Instead, I step closer, snatch the book back from him, and shove it back into my pocket.
‘Try harder next time.’
His brows fly up. ‘Next time. You want another date?’
I feel a sudden wave of insecurity. ‘If you don’t?—’
‘I do,’ he signs quickly, then curls his fingers around my wrists and tugs my hands down. He looks at my lips as he releases one hand to ask, ‘Do I get anything for a C minus?’
I tap my lips in thought and he scoffs. ‘C minus means…’ My fingers flutter in between us, and his eyes lock on them, then back on my eyes as he waits. His impatience is tangible. Like a heavy fog in the air I can almost taste. ‘Kiss.’
He groans in irritation, but he takes my cheeks between his palms, pulling me in toward him. But I stop him, holding up a finger, knocking it back and forth, and shaking my head no.
‘What? What’s wrong?’ he demands.
I draw his hands down to my hips and squeeze for him to stay there. He does, beautifully obedient. Then I take his chin between my fingers in a light pinch and draw him in.
Closer. Closer—and slower.
His eyes close, and I feel him suck in a breath.
Going up slightly onto my toes to close the tiny height gap between us, I lick my lips…then press them to the center of his forehead before stepping back.
His eyes fly open, and he looks dazed.
‘That,’ I tell him.
His eyes widen further as he comes back to himself. ‘That!Serious?’
