“Um, thanks. I think.” She wrinkles her nose and then giggles. “Most people who enjoy sex on the kinky side aren’t whack jobs. We’re just a little different. I’m not sure where I fit in yet. I’m not submissive. There isn’t one particular fetish that I enjoy more than others. I guess I’m still figuring it out.”
“Since when are you so smart?” I ask.
“I just don’t want you to throw away something that could be good just because you have preconceived notions about a lifestyle you know nothing about. This isn’t fiction, Nic. He’s just a guy. If it turns out that you don’t like it, you can end it and move on.”
“I did like it,” I admit softly. “And maybe that scared me.”
“Did he check in with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“When he was with you, while you were tied and whatever else he had you doing. Did he check to make sure you were okay?”
I think back to that night in my apartment, to the way he asked me if he was hurting me.
“Yes.”
She nods and smiles at me. “I’m excited for you.”
“It’s just dinner tomorrow night,” I remind her.
“But you’re gonna give it a chance, right?”
I drain my wine glass and watch my best friend for a moment and feel the excitement spread from my belly, out my arms and into my throat.
And it has nothing to do with the wine.
“Yeah, I definitely am.”
“Attagirl!”
***
Why did I agree to go out to dinner with him?
Do friends go out to dinner? Well, girlfriends do, and I guess I’ve been out to dinner with Ben once or twice when I was back home visiting.
Even though he’s my ex-boyfriend, he’s just a friend now.
And I’m overthinking this.
I’m in black capris and a white top with the shoulders cut out, showing off the ink on my right shoulder.
The doorbell rings just as I finish primping my short dark hair. I slide my feet into black sandals, grab my handbag and open the door to the finest specimen of man I’ve ever seen. He’s in faded denim and a blue T-shirt that molds to his torso, defining every ab, making me want to pull him inside this apartment and say screw it to dinner.
“Hey.” He grins.
“Hi yourself.” He steps back, allowing me to pull the door closed and lock the deadbolt.
“You look great.” He motions for me to lead him down the stairs to the sidewalk below.
“Likewise,” I reply and then giggle. “Seriously, it should be illegal to look like that in a T-shirt.”
He cringes and then laughs. “I’ll have to look that law up.”
“Do that,” I reply. “So, where are we going?”
“There’s a great place over by the Seattle Center. It’s not far, and it’s gorgeous tonight. Let’s walk.”
“Sounds good.” I fall into step beside him as we head down the dozen or so city blocks to the Seattle Center, where the Experience Music Project, Space Needle and KeyArena all are. It’s always a bustling place, lots to see.
“How did you find your building?” he asks as we wait for a stoplight to change.
“It took months,” I inform him. “I think my Realtor was ready to throw me into the sound by the time we found it. But I was picky.” I shrug and then shiver when he rests his hand on the small of my back, leading me across the busy intersection. “I knew when I saw it that I wanted it.”
“It’s an awesome location.”
“It really is. Plus, Leo Nash comes in on a regular basis. That’s one piece of eye candy that never gets old.”
Matt laughs next to me and steps around the opposite side of a tree, dividing us.
“Bread and butter,” I mumble.
“What?” he asks with a smile.
“When you’re with someone, and you both walk around the opposite side of something, you’re supposed to say ‘bread and butter’ so you don’t have bad luck.” I giggle and glance up at him. “At least, that’s what my great-grandmother used to tell me. But she was very superstitious.”
“I’ll have to remember that,” he replies with a grin. “So, back to Leo, did you meet him at the wedding?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I saw him there. I don’t usually talk to the guests. Actually, I don’t do many weddings.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re stressful and most brides are certifiable.”
Matt leads me past the EMP, and we stop to watch a juggler for a few moments.
“I prefer to be in my shop.”
“Do other musicians come in?”
“Sure. I’ve had Adam Levine in. I thought Tess was going to pee herself.” I laugh at the memory. “Bruno Mars, Eddie Vedder, Blake Shelton…they’ve all been in.”
“That’s cool. But Leo’s your favorite?”
“He’s nice. His girlfriend is always really nice, too. Sam, right?”
He nods, watching me, and I’m suddenly mortified.
“I’m sorry. They’re your family and I’m chattering on about them like a fan-girl.”
“It’s fine. They’re just normal people. You’d like them.”
“Are you taking me to the Greek place?” I ask with enthusiasm.
“Is that okay with you? They have great food.”
“I know! It’s my favorite.” I grin at him as he holds the door open for me. We’re seated quickly by the windows with a great view of the Space Needle.
“Tell me about your tattoo.” He’s watching me over his menu, his eyes calm and ice blue.
“Rebellious stage.”
“Can I get you both something to drink?” the waitress asks as she approaches the table.
“I’ll take a Diet Coke, please.”
“Water for me,” he replies. “Tell me more.”
“I had a few years where I gave my parents a run for their money. I got this”—I point to the bright flowers on my right shoulder—“on my twentieth birthday.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I’m glad I wasn’t stupid enough to get something like Tweety Bird or something.”
“Do the cherry blossoms mean something to you?”
“I thought they were pretty. And, trust me, that was a time in my life when I didn’t think much about me was pretty.”
He tilts his head to the side and narrows those blue eyes on me, but I look down at my menu, avoiding his gaze.
Why did I say that?
Rather than push for more, he turns his attention to his menu, and the waitress returns with drinks and to take our order.