“Good enough.” I squeeze his hand and let out the loudest laugh I can possibly muster. I flip my hair and laugh harder, gripping his arm even tighter and angling against him until I’m almost in his lap. Good lord, his biceps are much larger than I remembered from the lake house. Or maybe I just wasn’t paying attention. I need to focus. “Oh my God, Elliot. You have got to be the funniest guy I have ever met.” I drop my voice and stare at his lips which have gone dry. They’re not bad lips. Fuller on the bottom but wide … Focus, Audrey. “Funny guys are so hot,” I say as loud as I can. And then I’m on him. Straddling him in that nasty diner seat, my ass squeezed against the table as I press my entire body against his and hover my lips over his.
He’s freaking out, and I can tell his fight or flight reflexes are starting to kick in, so I press down on his lap even harder to ground him there. And then I kiss him. My heart is racing, fluttering upward and getting lodged somewhere in my throat. I know I’ve kissed him before, but there were drinks involved. And money. This is just kindness, or something, on my part, but he’s not giving me anything to work with, and it’s making it a thousand times harder to pull this off.
I pull away and lean into his ear, nip his lobe, and whisper, “Kiss me back, or she won’t buy it.”
“Ohhhh.” It’s an exhale and then his hands are on my back pressing me closer, his lips finding mine. I don’t think he means to, but his hips raise a bit and I have to push back against him because I can feel the table lift up a little. It settles down with an audible screech, but he’s not paying attention, because he’s figured out that I’ll let him put his tongue in my mouth and he’s really, really into it.
I bite the tip of his tongue gently and he pulls back a bit to make eye contact. He’s red-cheeked and breathing heavy, and my lips feel five times bigger than they did before. I stare at the beauty marks on the side of his face while I find my sense of gravity again. My hands are in his dark hair and I’m … yeah… I’m pretty sure his hands found their way up the back of my shirt. His hands are big. Shit.
“So … did you need more time to look over the menu? Or …”
I turn to look over my shoulder at the waitress who has her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. It’s not like she hasn’t seen worse. But I have a brief thought that maybe we put on a pretty damn good show. And that means we got the job done. My pelvis rubs against Elliot’s jeans, and I hear him make a strangled noise.
I pretend to be embarrassed “Sorry. I think maybe we’ll just get ours to go.” I climb off his lap and make eye contact with the super blonde who is definitely staring. Without a thought, I rattle off an order like I know what my man wants.
The waitress smiles and reaches for the menus, but Elliot hesitates. His menu is now in his lap, and he shakes his head quickly. “I’ll keep this for a minute, if you don’t mind. There’s a puzzle on the back I wanted to look at.”
We’ve been in his apartment for ten minutes, and he still hasn’t spoken. He’s eaten everything and refuses to look directly at me.
“I was trying to help you out, okay? I had no idea you’d get all weird about it.” I have to break the silence or else I’ll lose it. It should be noted that I also did not know he’d get a hard-on from the ordeal, either. I’d say that wasn’t my fault, but let’s be real.
“Are you really that upset that she broke up with you? Did you love her or something? Were you planning on popping the question?”
“No.” He finally manages to look at me, though his gaze only lingers briefly. He clears his throat, and I see him clench his jaw once before he drops his fork and shoves his plate away with a sigh. “It’s not like that. I’m mad that she broke up with me before we went to Ireland because it was supposed to be part of this project that I’m working on over the summer. It’s why Cline and I kept the apartment instead of going back home. So, yeah, I wanted to go away for vacation, and I wanted to get the stuff for my project. I’m not hung up on her.”
I point at the front of his pants and grin. “Well, that was obvious.”
“Shut up!” It’s the first bit of a smile I’ve seen from him since the diner. “You were, like, on it. You’d be offended if I didn’t have a reaction. Be honest.”
“I mean, I guess so?” This time we both laugh, and it feels like the tension is finally leaving the room. The weight on my chest is starting to dissolve a little. I always have such good intentions.
I take a moment to look around his place. The apartment is small. It’s a two bedroom, and the living space is maybe a total of seven hundred square feet. I counted twelve steps to cross his threshold into the kitchen and another three to get to the couch. I haven’t gotten a full view of his bedroom, but the door is cracked, and I can make out a couple of piles of clothes on the floor and a whole bunch of wires coming from everywhere.
My immediate instinct is to ask if I can help him clean his shit up but I tamp it down. Too soon.
Instead, I wander back into the kitchen and start opening cabinets. Three of them are stocked with nothing but cereal. A few different kinds, but there are at least three boxes of Lucky Charms staring me in the face, and it makes me grin.
“I’m the reason Cline got fat, you know,” I say with a laugh.