Page 44 of Smut

He rubs his fingers along his chin and stares at the ceiling. “Um, maybe a year ago. No, less than that.”

“She’s still in England.”

He gives me a simple nod. “Yes,” he says, baring his teeth slightly.

“That can’t be easy,” I say, trying to put myself in his shoes. “Long distance and all that. I mean normal relationships are hard enough, I can’t imagine how difficult they are when you’re continents apart.”

“Yes, well, lesson learned,” he says quickly, smiling up at the waitress as she drops off our drinks. He gestures to me. “Did you want to order food?”

“What did I say earlier?”

“That we’re obviously here to drink, then eat, then work.”

I glance at the waitress and she’s beaming down at us like we’re some couple on their first date. I have the urge to tell her that I have to be here in order to graduate but I’m sure she’s heard it all before.

I hold out my hand for the menu and the waitress hands it back.

“I don’t know how I got roped into going to dinner with you,” I tell him, trying to keep my focus on the list of farm-to-table food.

“Because I’m utterly charming,” he explains, splaying his hands out.

“Well at least you didn’t mention your cock. That has to be a first.”

He doesn’t say anything and I have to glance over my menu at him. He’s staring at me with the intensity he had in the halls earlier, though his eyes look a bit lazier, languid, like they’re drinking me in and loving it.

I swallow uneasily, not used to this attention from him, and pick up my drink. I take a timid sip, the vinegar a shock to my tongue but it quickly blends with the raspberry and other liqueurs. Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve finished half the drink and my body immediately relaxes.

“Thirsty?” Blake comments after a sip of his dark beer.

“It’s a small glass,” I say defensively.

“And I’m paying,” he says. “And driving. Go nuts.”

I push the drink away. “I’ll behave.”

He waits a beat, licking his lips, before he says, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

Oh boy. I meet his eyes and I’m held there for a moment. This whole thing was a mistake. I should have stayed mad at him. I should have insisted we work on this in the library like we have before.

“Hey,” he says softly, breaking his stare and twisting in his seat to take out his laptop. “Let’s get started.”

And somehow, just like that, he moves into work mode which makes it easier to do the same. Over the next hour we go over our notes for each other and plot and plan the next steps to finish the story with a bang.

We also order more drinks and then when my head starts getting swimmy and we’ve done all we can, we put our order in for dinner. The sun has just set over the harbor, setting the grey water ablaze with pink and yellow and casting a glow to the walls.

“Your hair is glowing,” Blake comments. “Like a bloody fireball.”

I self-consciously smooth my hair back, making sure all the strands are properly tucked into the ponytail elastic. I’m feeling a bit unraveled myself.

He takes a slow sip of water, his eyes never leaving me. “Do you ever wear it down?”

I exhale noisily. “Yes. I do. But I prefer it back. And no, I don’t want to wear contacts, I prefer my glasses.”

“I prefer your glasses too,” he says and I look at him, brows raised. He shrugs. “What? They suit you.”

Funny. Most guys want me with the glasses off but then again Blake isn’t most guys. And by that, I mean he shouldn’t be thinking of me in a sexual way and I certainly shouldn’t be entertaining it after two shrubs and an oyster stout which I tried at Blake’s urging. It was surprisingly delicious.

“So tell me more about your ex,” he says.

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