Page 85 of Filthy Little Secret

His smile helps soothe me, though.

30

MARK

Iknew Tim would stress out about the money, but I wanted him to have a good time tonight.

He deserves it. I’m so proud of him for starting this new job. That he’s moving his life in a direction he’s proud of…a direction I can see has made him happier even over the course of a week and a half.

We haven’t been quiet about our relationship, either. We’ve gone out to a few parties together and hung around my friends without stressing about it getting out. Even if people do make a big deal about his past and my connection, I love him, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.

When the waiter arrives to take our orders, Tim fidgets uneasily with the menu as he orders his steak.

“How would you like it done?” the waiter asks him.

“Um…”

“Rare…medium rare—”

“Well.”

Then I give the waiter my order before he heads off.

“So cute watching you in a big ole fancy place like this,” I tease.

He glances around uneasily.

“I guess you do this a lot. Dress up like you did that night at the fundraiser.”

“I’m even better at dressing down,” I joke.

He laughs, and I can tell it sets him a little more at ease.

“Timmy, relax. This is your night.”

“It’sournight.”

The waiter arrives with rolls and butter, and we enjoy some while we chat about school and work. Soon, the entrees arrive, and Tim’s devouring a big-ass steak—I’m sure he can understand why it costs so fucking much just based on how he’s eating it.

He doesn’t know, but I sure as fuck can’t afford tonight either. I’m putting it on my credit card and will be paying it off over the next few months. I rarely use my credit card. Had about forty dollars on it before tonight, but I figure we deserve this. I know Tim does. He’s made so many big changes, and he needs to celebrate this new direction of his life.

After we finish eating, I notice a few more couples dancing in the space before the orchestra. As the song starts to change, a few more couples head out.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“What?”

He turns to the dance floor, and his eyes widen.

“Oh, hell no.”

“Hell yes,” I say as I stand.

I start toward the dance floor, but he sits there, eyeing me like I’ve lost my mind.

“I can’t dance.”

“I’ll show you. It’s slow. It’s easy.”

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