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Plastering a smile on my face, I make my way to the bar where we'd agreed to meet. By the time I get there, he's already ordered me a mimosa, and he's waiting with the drink in one hand and a smile on his face. “I can't promise it's not too early to start drinking,” he says, that charming grin of his widening.
“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. It can be our little secret,” I say as I take the drink from him and have a sip.
He chuckles. “Once you’re done with that, we can get our day started.”
“This is the best way to start my day. I’m that woman. Not a dessert-themed iced coffee first thing in the morning, but a drink instead.” I laugh. “But only while I’m on vacation,” I add, hoping he doesn’t judge me. Maybe I deserve to be judged, but I really don’t drink that much.
He leans in. “It’ll be our secret,” he says softly with a wink.
I quickly finish my drink and, feeling a tiny bit tipsy, let him lead me out. As we walk, the alcohol seems to burn off, leaving me feeling clear headed, but still with that fun, loose feeling.
He guides me toward the rec room with the sound of hollow balls hitting tables and paddles giving me an idea what we’re going to do next. As he takes my arm and leads me toward a table, I find myself excited for what's going to happen next. I haven't played table tennis since I was a teenager who frequented the local arcade and played table tennis, air hockey, and pool. Those are good memories. Good memories that I haven't relived in far too long.
I can't help but think how strange it is that he seems so cold and arrogant toward other people, but with me, he's amazing. As he hands me a paddle, I catch how he flips his effortlessly with one hand and catches it by the handle.
I can’t help but think I’m in trouble...
“Rut-ro,” I say in my best Scooby Doo impression.
He smiles, offering me a ball before getting into position. And the world around us, all of the noise, all of the people, the sounds, fade away as I focus on him. I drop the ball on the table and try to hit it with the paddle, completely missing on the first try as the ball bounces toward the net. I can't help but laugh at myself as he watches.
Trying again, I manage to hit the ball and regain my confidence as he volleys it back. I hit and watch the little orange ball sail over the net, landing in the middle of the table on his side. He swats it back, his gaze on me, not the ball, and I realize I’m having fun.
I can't help but wonder if he's good at everything he does. But instead of making me feel bad about being rusty and out of practice, he just plays. We’re not competing; we’re just having fun. And as I hit the ball and it sails past him, touching the edge of the table before bouncing to the ground, I realize I got a point and do a little happy dance. I don’t care about winning, but I am proud to have gotten a point.
“Good job!” he says, but instead of an upbeat tone, he speaks in a low growl that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up - in a good way - and a shiver sneak down my spine. I stop and stare at him, every nerve in my body lighting up. I’d give anything to hear him say those words again, and I begin to play like my life depends on it.
Time slips by in the blink of an eye, and I realize it's time for us to move on. Even though he definitely won, he doesn't rub it in my face or make me feel bad or inferior like Jake would do. Instead, he’s a gracious winner who downplays his win and focuses on the fun we both had. And I love that about him.
He’s amazing. There’s no other way to describe him.
He makes me feel good about myself, our time together, and my actions. I feel like an equal, like I’m important, like he cares.
“What’s next?” I ask as we leave the rec room and head toward the kitchens.
He smiles down at me. “Do you want me to ruin the surprise?”
I think about it for a moment, wondering if I'd rather be surprised or know what I'm getting into. Shockingly, I settle on letting him surprise me. At least until we walk into the kitchens and I see the signage displaying “Make Your Own Pizza!”
I glance up at him with a sly grin. “This is going to be one of those moments that makes or breaks us.” I say the words, not because we'll be working together to make pizza, but because this is going to be a battle of the ages or a bonding moment. Or he’ll think I’m crazy. And maybe I am, who knows?
As we wait for the final people to arrive, we talk.
“Are you ready to get back to work?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not really. I’m having a good time.” The way he holds my stare and says the word saves me, blushing and wondering if I'm part of the reason he’s enjoying himself. That thought leaves me feeling warm and fuzzy.
The final few people trickle in and the class starts, but we're talking back and forth instead of listening.
“I love my job, but this vacation is exactly what I needed,” I confide in him.
“I hate my job, but this vacation is exactly what I needed.”
I feel bad for him. I can't imagine hating my job and having to do it day in and day out ad nauseam until I die. The teacher is showing us how to knead the dough and roll the crust out, and I’ve got this activity in the bag. So does he, and we’re smiling that my pizza is oval shaped instead of perfectly round. I inform him that I'm not interested in perfection, and he tells me he admires that quality in me as we ladle out the freshly-made sauce and spread it on the dough.
He accidentally dips a knuckle into red sauce as he reaches past my pizza for an alfredo sauce, pauses, and then lifts his hand and touches the red-stained knuckle to the tip of my nose. I laugh, until he leans in and kisses the spot, his warm mouth sending a shockwave of tingles throughout my entire body.
Two can play that game. I grab his hand and bring the offending knuckle to my mouth, watching fire ignite in his eyes as he studies my face. The fun, flirty feeling of the moment washes away into something deeper, darker, and more animalistic as my tongue scrubs his knuckle clean of the thick, red, tomato sauce. I taste the depth of flavors, rosemary, basil, salt, the rich fresh taste of tomato and pepper. But I also taste him, warm, delicious, mouthwatering.
