Page 84 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

Unlike me.

I get out and walk up to the low wrought-iron gate, let myself in, and then walk to the front door filled with equal parts excitement, dread, and curiosity.

The door opens before I can knock and suddenly my face is stinging with a slap.

I just stare at my date. Her hand is still raised, her expression is one of surprise, and her dress—holy fucking shit, her dress—hugs her curves like it’s painted on.

“Why did you hit me?” I ask, kinda stunned.

“Oh, my God.” Ivy starts laughing so hard, she doubles over.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m so sorry! I just figured… oh, my God. I can’t believe I hit you! I really hit you!”

She’s laughing so hard I start to laugh too. “Ivy?” I say. “What’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” she says, waving a hand in front of her face to stop her laughing. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I was thinking that I might want to do that to you later, but I won’t be able to because we’ll be in the fantasy. And even if I did, you wouldn’t understand what it meant. You’d think it was part of the scene.”

I just blink at her.

“Shit, your whole cheek is bright red. And my hand is stinging!”

I reach for the hand that slapped me, place it against my cheek. The heat of the slap doubles as we come skin to skin. And then I hold her palm up to my lips and kiss away the sting. “I get the point.”

“I’m sorry,” she says through the constant smile.

I don’t know how I expected this date to start, but this certainly wasn’t it. “Don’t be. I get it. I will probably scare you a little tonight. And this is a good way to get your point across. You,” I say, stressing the word, “are the one in control. Even when you feel out of control.”

She nods and then takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I’m doing this. But I’m going to do it anyway.” And then she bites her lip. “People will think I’m crazy.”

“No one’s gonna know. This night is a series of private moments between us, and only us. No one will know unless you tell them. OK?”

She nods, becomes shy again, and then says, “OK.”

“Are you ready?”

“When do I say no?”

It’s my turn to laugh. “Well, I was thinking we’d have dinner first?”

“Dinner?” She looks surprised.

“It’s a date. Our first real date. Did you already eat? We can do something else. Get dessert or go for a walk in town. Although, I have to say, walking around this neighborhood brings up all kinds of bad memories.”

“A walk?”

“If you want. If you’re not hungry—”

“No, I’m hungry. I just didn’t expect…”

I cock my head to the side and grin at her. “Didn’t expect… what?”

“Romance.”

I laugh almost as hard as she did when she slapped me. “My name is Mr. Romantic, Ivy. Give me a little credit.”

“I thought it was ironic?”