Page 45 of Embody

“What’s that supposed to mean?”I didn’t catch the actual lesson, just the fact there was one there.

“I’ll get her moved, but the furnishings? Coming out of your weekly paycheck. Worth doing for her, worth doing it for her yourself. Make sense?”

“Yes, sir, perfect sense. Wouldn’t have it any other way. And Dad? Thank you.”

I hang up, satisfied with the good start. I’ll worry about her lack of car after a few dates.

Or tomorrow. We’ll see.

“I’m ready,” she says shyly and I turn, taking her in slowly, twice. Little black dress that snugly outlines the perfection that hides underneath. Her long, auburn locks hanging over her shoulders in soft curls. And the sweet pink tint of uncertainty on her cheeks.

Breathtaking.

Definitely gonna worry about the car tomorrow.

“Come here,” I crook my finger at her and she smiles, walking over to me. “Bellamy, you’re absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she casts her eyes down to my shirt. “What about you, though? Are you dry yet?”

“Dry enough. Just wanna feed you, Gorgeous. You ready?”

She bobs her head eagerly and I take her hand in mine, leading us out. She gives mine a squeeze and I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. Her smile, so full and sweet…she’s excited, I imagine going through the gamut of all those “girl” feelings— dressed up nice, fancy date, those things. And maybe, happy it’s with me.

And another totally unfamiliar, baffling thought hits me out of nowhere.

Thisis why men suddenly change, shocking everyone who knows them, and one certain woman is instantlymorethan enough. Able to make them, unasked, do the frilly, special stuff for only her…

She smiled like that.

 

 

DINNER IS UNLIKEany meal I’ve ever had.

Oh, I’ve eaten at this restaurant many times. Had their steak. May have even sat at this exact table before.

But never have I been completely engrossed in a conversation the way I am tonight. I don’t even want to think about how closely I resemble a woman right now, but…I resemble a woman right now.

Not to stereotype the entire gender. Maybe some of them don’t feel this way, but it’s the only thing I can think to equate it to, because I know what I interpret being “a man” to feel like…and that’snotwhat’s going on with me right now.

Her every move, word, expression—I am wholly attuned to, oblivious to all else. For instance, she’s a little chilly. There are tiny goosebumps on her arms and she’s hunching her shoulders to trap her body heat close to her. I really wish I had a jacket for her.

Another fact…she didn’t like the appetizer, forcing a smile through the one bite she took, subtly pushing the plate aside after.

And she loves the house band, providing subdued, romantic music in the background. I know this because she’s closed her eyes and sighed at the start of four different songs.

I like her.

Not just her startling beauty and killer body. More than her innocent essence.

Her.

It almost feels beyond my control, a preordained connection, as though I couldn’tnotlike her even if I was determined to convince myself of such.

Good Lord, JT. Need a tampon?

I must laugh because she asks, “What were you just thinking, that tickled you?”

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