Page 66 of Falling in Love with Two

“Hmm. Cook for you or have you eat nothing but gum and fast food? I think I’ll go with the first one.”

“Okay, Sparky. No need to be dramatic. How long before dinner is ready?”

“About twenty minutes or so.”

“Do you mind if I take a shower real quick before we eat?” I ask.

Dylan looks at me with sultry eyes. “Leah, honey, you can do whatever you want. This is your house too. Take your time. I’ll keep everything warm until you’re done.”

Is this really how good it’s going to be? Him cooking for me and being ridiculously nice and understanding? That’s something I’m certainly not used to.

Despite what he said, I try not to take too long in the shower, although washing my hair is a beast all on its own.

When I do finish, I throw on a t-shirt and some shorts and go back to the kitchen where Dylan is scooping us out lasagna and pairing it with a big piece of garlic bread.

As he hands me a plate, I ask where he prefers that we eat.

In what I’m learning is typical Dylan fashion, he replies, “Wherever you want. We can eat at the table, or we can go to the living room and eat on the couch. Or if I’m annoying you, you can eat in your room.”

I smile. “Let’s sit at the table. Lasagna can get a little messy.”

While I have a seat, he fixes us a couple of drinks and then joins me. I take the first bite and hope that I don’t have to pretend that I like it. Thankfully, I don’t have to. It’s delicious.

“Wow,” I say between bites.

“Surprised?” He asks.

“Maybe a little.”

“My parents own the only bar and grill in town. I was cooking at a pretty young age.”

“That’s nice.”

My mom gave up on me and didn’t give a shit if I learned to cook or not.

We sit quietly for a couple of minutes. Surprisingly, it’s not awkward. Maybe it’s just because I’m so tired, but there’s something comforting about this moment.

It’s probably because you’re just exhausted and hungry.

Feeling like one of us should probably say something, I ask, “So, what would you be doing right now if I wasn’t here? Would you be out prowling for pussy?”

That gets a loud laugh out of him. “Not exactly. I’d probably just eat dinner and then, turn on a movie until it was time for bed.”

“Really?”

He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I’m not nearly as wild as you think I am. Sure, I go out sometimes, but for the most part, I’m a homebody.”

Realizing I may have come off a little stereotypical, I change the subject. “So, you like movies, huh?”

“I love movies. I have a huge collection.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Too many to name. What about you?”

“Uhm. I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I don’t watch a lot of movies.”

“Don’t like them?” He asks.

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