She giggles. Why the fuck she thinks that’s funny, I will never know. “I’m not sure. Do you want to check?”
Cleo hides her face behind her menu, her lips pressing together as her shoulders shake against mine. This is going to be a very long night.
My hand drops to Cleo’s thigh, and I skate my hand under her dress to grip her bare flesh. Jesus, she’s got soft skin. Her laughdies, and she sucks in a breath. If I have to suffer, so does she.
The waitress appears with a pop of gum and a bored expression. “Ready to order?”
“I’ll have the Caesar salad, hold the dressing,” Amalee says with a smile at me.You can hold the dressing all you want. I won’t be kissing you.“And a sex on the beach, please.”
“Jesus Christ,” Cleo mumbles too low for anyone other than me to hear.
“How about you, Cleo?” Sam asks.
“Still deciding. You guys order first.”
“I’ll have the brisket and a Bud Light,” Sam decides. “And a side of fried okra and mac and cheese to go with it.” Ahh, so he’s avoiding his favorite to ensure he doesn’t make a mess in front of Cleo. I have no such need.
“Ribs, the potato salad, and a Lone Star,” I tell her. All eyes turn to Cleo.
“The ribs are good?” she checks.
“The best,” the waitress tells her.
“Better than the steak?”
“About the same.”
Cleo grips the menu tighter. “Do you want to go for the sharing platter?” I ask. “It comes with steak, ribs, wings, and a couple of sides.”
Her shoulders relax. “Perfect.”
Sam’s scowl couldn’t be any clearer. He’s an idiot. I’m not going to watch her struggle. As her date, he should be more in tune with her. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and a WTF GIF appears. I shoot him back the ScarI’m surrounded by idiotsGIF.
He rolls his eyes just as Cleo says, “Double bourbon, neat.”
And if I wasn’t already convinced that Cleo is everything that sings to my soul, this would seal the deal.
“Wooo,” Amalee says. “Like your liquor?”
“I rarely drink, but when I do, I want it to be amazing.”
“Just not very ladylike,” Amalee mumbles.
Cleo rolls her eyes but doesn’t engage. In fact, I’m certain her attention isn’t on the couple across from us, it’s firmly on my fingers tracing lazy patterns on the inside of her thigh. She widens them slightly and swallows.
Amalee engages Sam in a conversation about the work he’s scheduled to do on her parents home. I take that moment to lean my mouth against Cleo’s ear. “Do you want me to stop?” She twists her lips to the side like she’s contemplating her answer, then shakes her head. I keep in the safe zone of the lower part of her inner thigh. The point is to wind her so tight that she defeats the demons.
“How long are you planning to be in town for?” Sam says, breaking my focus from the fascinating creature next to me.
“I’m not sure,” I answer truthfully.
Amalee giggles and sweeps her heeled foot along my calf. Does she think I’m not sure because of her? Has she made up some convoluted future where we have two kids and a dog? I stare at her, and she drops her eyes like she’s bashful. She’s not. And while Cleo might conceal her reactions, thoughts, and emotions from me, it’s an act of self preservation. She’s had to hone that skill to survive, which is something I can understand.
On the other hand, Amalee is all pretense. She’s trying real hard to be what I want, but if she’d relax for a damn second, she’d realize she’s not it. She needs to open her eyes—her perfect match is sitting right beside her. I always thought they’d end up together, even back in high school.
I’ve often found that light chases dark, and that’s what both of the people across from us are doing. It’s the thrill of the unknown, the high of excitement, the rush of unpredictability—until the mask falls and they realize the darkness is a mark on our souls, one we either can’t or don’t want to fix.
The waitress arrives with our drinks and slides them in front of us before hurrying off to take her next order.
