Page 103 of Electric Touch

Apollo came over last night to catch the evil cat. He told me next time I decide to do something stupid like adopt a cat, I should talk to him first. Even if it is on the list. Why I did it with no research, I don’t know. It isn’t my usual way of doing things.

I suggested to Apollo it counts, because technically I adopted a pet. Nothing stipulated I had to keep said pet. He’d shook his head at my logic but was halfway impressed.

“You’re not a cat person,” he told me as the beast in question hissed. It tried to break out of the carrier. “Settle down, asshole,” he shouted. Miraculously, the cat stopped moving.

“Maybe you should take him,” I suggest.

“Don’t put your guilt on me for returning this animal,” he says. “I suggest you get a goldfish.” Then he left, taking the pervert cat with him.

When Nash buzzes, I meet him downstairs. He’s waiting on the sidewalk when I come out. Nash’s eyes move up and down my body in a slow perusal, finally landing on my face.

He looks delicious himself. Dressed in black slacks and a black shirt. And he’s wearing dress shoes. His hair is tousled to perfection, the planes of his high cheekbones accentuated by the streetlight behind me. He looks like every woman’s wet dream. My heart pounds as he kisses my cheek.

“You look beautiful.”

“You too.”

“There you go again, calling me beautiful,” he laughs. “Come on, I suspect you can’t stand the thought of being late. I’m having to fight not to drag you inside and bend you over in this dress.”

Oh. My heart beats even harder, though I try not to let it show. It doesn’t work. He smirks as he puts his hand to the small of my back and walks me to the car. Blake is waiting. We don’t talk much on the way over, but he keeps casting looks my way and holds my hand. I smile to myself as I look out of the window.

We arrive at an exclusive restaurant, one I would never dream of entering. Before I mention the cost, Nash tells me it’s already sorted and if I try to offer money, I’ll offend Jordan. This place has two Michelin stars! There I go, thinking in exclamation points like my mama. I choose to enjoy it, rather than be concerned about who is paying.

I’m surprised to see Alessa in a gorgeous lilac dress. She is usually a jeans or leggings kind of woman. She looks stunning. Jordan is dressed up too. He rises and greets Nash with a shake of the hand and gives me a kiss on my cheek. Alessa smirks but doesn’t move, sipping her red wine.

Nash pulls out my chair for me, a move some women might get pissed about, but I revel in it. I’ve dated a lot. Had my share of short-term relationships. No one has ever held out my chair for me. I’m lucky if they’ve held the door. Nash isn’t like all other men, he’s a true gentleman.

Jordan entertains us with his endless banter as we peruse the menu. There are no prices. I give Nash a cursory look and he pointedly looks back at my menu, silently repeating his warning from outside. We choose our food and servers pour us more wine.

“So, Tia, Alessa says you’re working on helping high school kids have a better chance of getting into college?” Jordan leans back in his chair.

It’s a very simplified version of what I’m doing, but in a nutshell, yes. Nash looks at me curiously. He’s likely wondering when I told Alessa. I’m not an active part of her group chat. Honestly, I’ve muted it a few times. But I have spent some time talking with the BreakNeck women. My explanation for not being so active was to explain what I’m working on.

“Yes, that is a part of what I’m doing. I don’t have the funding yet. I’m putting in the application.”

“She’s working flat out on it. I’ve got faith you’ll get it,” Nash says, sipping his wine.

“It’s not the same thing, but we have a music foundation for underprivileged kids on the West Coast. We started it up about five years ago. It’s run by a charity on our behalf. It’s fucking amazing, seeing the kids go through it, loving music and becoming successful with it.”

“That’s great,” I tell him. “I’ve been researching a few different charitable companies to pick things up if I don’t get the grant.”

“You want to do it anyway?” Jordan asks.

“Of course. I want to do everything I can to interest people. Mathematics is not a sexy subject.”

“Isn’t it?” Nash eyes me, the lusty look in his eye obvious to everyone at the table.

“I mean in terms of numbers of kids applying for a degree in mathematics or statistics. Colleges across the country work hard to get interest in math programs. The goal is to get more people majoring. Not just doing it as a minor, or an elective towards a business degree. I want people to get excited about math.”

“That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear anyone say,” Jordan quips. “I’m the kind of guy who thinks I got a calculator on my phone. Why do I need to know math?”

“Math is more than just sums though, Jordan,” I tell him. “The principles of math are fundamental concepts and logical structures. It’s not just numbers and shapes. It’s the study of order and space, axioms and theorems and what we can derive from them. Plus, there is a philosophical aspect to it.”

“I didn’t understand a word you just said,” Jordan laughs. “But you’re wrong. It is sexy,” he winks.

Alessa and I know he doesn’t mean anything by that, but Nash’s jaw flexes as he stares at Jordan. I touch the top of his hand before taking my wine glass. He calms down.

Our first course arrives and I almost die at how gorgeous everything looks and tastes. It’s nice, as a one off. My heart will always belong in the traditional, family run Greek restaurants I’ve come to love. Nash must read my mind because he tells them about where he tried Greek food for the first time.

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