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I’ll tell him all that—eventually. But not on our first real date. Right now, I’m afraid if I open my mouth, it will all come tumbling out like an avalanche of honesty. Also, we’re currently sharing the table with Sam and her boyfriend, who appear to be having an argument. Kind of a mood killer.
“You’re like a mime,” Mason says. “Why are you being so quiet?”
“Maybe I’m quiet when I’m happy.”
“And you’re happy now?” he asks.
I snuggle into his chest more, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck. “Very.”
I’m also very tired—who knew dancing could take so much out of you!—and starving, since while we were dancing, the caterers ran out of food. My stomach makes an unholy noise somewhere between a growl and a gurgle.
“See?” Sam says loudly, drawing my attention across the table. And is she … pointing at me? “Everyone’s hungry. Let’s get out of here. This party is lame.”
Was my stomach loud enough to hear across the table? Apparently so.
“I told you—I want to stay until midnight,” her boyfriend says, and then they lower their voices and go back to a quiet argument, thankfully taking the attention off me and my unruly stomach.
“I didn’t feed you,” Mason says, frowning.
I laugh. “I’m not a cat. I can feed myself.”
“Of course you can. But tonight, I want to be the one taking care of you.”
So sweet!
He continues, “And that includes keeping your stomach from ever making that noise again.”
Slightly less sweet.
“What noise?” I ask. “I didn’t hear any noise.”
“I think even the dj heard your stomach growl,” Mason says. “What are you in the mood for? We can go now and pick up something on the way home.”
Home. I love the sound of that. Even if the home he means isn’tourhome but my brother’s apartment. It feels like a happy kind of foreshadowing. I also love hearing Mason say he wants to take care of me tonight.
Let’s just extend that toforever, and I’ll be good.
“Tacos.” I snuggle into him again and close my eyes. “Give me tacos and this will be the perfect first date.”
“Justtacos?” Mason asks. “That’sallit will take to make this date perfect? Theonlything missing?”
“Obviously,” I tease. “Tacos are the only thing I need.”
Except for a kiss. No—a thousand kisses! A single one won’t be enough. I want one right after the other blending into a whole evening where I lose the ability to tell where my mouth ends and Mason’s mouth begins.
That … and tacos.
Mason makes a grumbling sound, and I nuzzle his neck.
“There, there,” I tell him. “I like you almost as much as I like tacos.”
“At least now I have a goal—to be liked more than tacos.”
“You’ll get there one day,” I say, tip-toeing my fingers up his arm. Because Ican.
Tonight, Mason said he was myboyfriend, which I think gives me a free pass to be affectionate. Sitting in his lap, pressing my nose right into his neck, and now touching his biceps.
Though we haven’t talked yetofficiallyabout labels other than that, I’m going to claim it. He saidboyfriend—no take backsies!
