"You're going to be late. It's quarter to seven already. Get the fuck out, you look fine." I open my mouth to argue, but she's already grabbing my hand and dragging me from the room, then practically shoves me out the front door and slams my keys into my hand.
"GO!!" she yells and closes the door in my face. I take one last look down at my outfit before sighing, "Guess I'm going like this."
When I pull up a few buildings down from the now-closed Savage Ink studio, I spot him straight away this time. He looks like he just stepped out of a shoot for GQ Magazine. I sit there staring at him, unable to move from the car. I feel rooted to the spot by those damn butterflies causing chaos in my stomach.
Twisting my hands around the steering wheel, I take a few settling deep breaths before throwing open the car door and stepping out to face the man who, even after everything, still owns my heart.
DREW
The idea for this date came partially from my brother. Pete thought it would be a great idea to recreate our first date. As much as I agree with him, I wanted to do something a little bit different.
On our first actual date, we ate a fabulous meal at an Italian restaurant and shared a bottle of wine before heading back to my apartment.
As much as I want to skip everything and drag the stubborn man home, I don’t want to rush sex this time around. The way Ryan always submitted to me in bed could make him spiral away again, and that just won’t work.
At seven P.M sharp, I'm waiting outside Savage Ink, leaning against my car. I look around because the shop is closed. I was afraid he would have Nyx send me away if I tried to pick him up from her place, so I figured I'd pick him up from work. Clearly, I shouldn't have assumed he'd be working late. Now I'm staring at the dark window like a freak. Fuck me. Now what?
"Waiting for someone?" I jump, almost sliding down the side of the car—Ryan's standing on the other side with a smirk on his face.
"Fuck, you scared me," I say, my hand on my chest,feeling like my heart's about to fall out of my asshole.
Taking a deep breath and a good look at him, I try not to laugh. I feel myself settling. I love that shirt on him. It clings to his chest and arms almost like it was painted on. It's probably bad date etiquette, but I allow my eyes to travel the rest of his body. Those tight jeans molding to his thighs and his typical dirty Converse complete the look, and what a look it is. Clenching my fist, I fight every urge in my body to stop myself from pulling him closer.
He. Is. Mine. I just need to remind him of that.
"You could've texted me to pick you up from Nyx’s, you know, since you finished earlier."
"Nah, where is the fun in that?" he asks with a shrug as he bites back his smile. My heart flutters in my chest at the sight. I'll take all the bitten-back smiles I can get.
Moving around the car, I open the passenger door and gesture for him to get inside. I watch his eyebrow raise before he steps forward and folds his long body inside. That's right, Ryan soon-to-be Cliffer, I'm going to woo the shit out of you.
We probably could walk to the restaurant, but I want to keep the mystery going, so I drive the three blocks before pulling up outsideLittle Roma. My eyes drift to Ryan to see if he recognizes the quaint Italian restaurant where we had our first date. Back then, we stumbled upon this place for no other reason than the fact it was still open at eleven P.M. when his set ended.
By some stroke of luck, the food was incredible. And tonight was another stunning stroke of luck. When I called earlier to make a reservation and explained I needed a particular table to commence with the wooing, I was told they have a monthly “Cook along” where customers can cook alongside the chefs and learn the recipes.
It's perfect. Only something like this could top dinner here in phase one of getting my boyfriend back. "Party of two, Sir? For this evening's event?" The young hostess asks, and I nod, not entirely sure how she knew we were here for the event and not just dinner, but I'm not about to question her. Maybe she's some kind of psychic. Not a person I would want to piss off, not tonight, anyway.
Tonight is all about the handsome man beside me who flashes the pretty girl a smile, causing a slight blush to appear on her cheeks. Not that I can even blame her. He’s hot as hell itself.
We walk through the restaurant, Ryan following behind the hostess and me following behind him, taking every chance to stare at his ass in those jeans he's poured into. We reach the large double doors that lead to the kitchen, and Ryan stops abruptly, causing me to run into his back. I grip his hips and, out of habit more than anything, lean down to speak against his ear.
"What's wrong? Why did you stop?" I ask, feeling his body shiver under my touch in response, and I have to tilt my hips back so he doesn't feel my hard-on pressing into his ass… that would be embarrassing,
“Umm, I think she forgot we were following her. She went into the kitchen,” he says, pointing to the double doors directly in front of us. Deciding to go for broke, I softly lay a kiss on his temple before pushing his body to continue forward. “Perhaps we should follow her anyway,” my tone leaves no room for negotiation.
Stepping inside the kitchen, the hostess directs us to a wide marble island counter with other couples chatting around it. She hands us white aprons and leads us to the remaining empty seats around the island before wishing everybody a good evening and leaving us there.
"Now would be a great time to tell me what we're supposed to participate in here," Ry whispered, looking shyly around the island and at the other couples who were excitedly chatting amongst themselves.
"Well, we're going to learn how to create the amazing food we ate on our first date." His head spins around so quickly that I'm afraid he will fall off his stool. The surprise is evident on his handsome face.
"What? Aren't you hungry?" I ask, grinning playfully at him because the man is always hungry.
"Umm, I'm kinda surprised you remembered this was where we had our first date." His genuine shock hurts more than he probably meant it to. Was I so disconnected from him that he thought I wouldn't have cherished every moment we had together? That notion is startling. How could I have failed so hard at this relationship without realizing it?
Thankfully, before I can spiral further into shame, a man in a white chef's jacket appears at the head of the island and introduces himself.
"Good evening. My name is Mario Roma, and I'll be your instructor this evening. This is my family's restaurant, and I'm very excited to teach you all how we do things in Italy." Mario's thick Italian accent only leans to his authenticity and everybody's excitement, hopefully including Ryan's.
