Page 5 of The Gift Rarely Given

She flashes me a giant smile and says, “Easy and simple. It was a date set up by my mother, and that guy has thepersonality of ñame. He also ordered me a salad for dinner, after I’d just gotten off of a long day of work and had to deal with the parking nightmare that is this town. I couldn’t take it. Your mama raised you to be a gentleman, mine raised me to give pleasantries, and today I’m out of them.”

“Fair. Also, what’s a yamay? Is that what you said?”

“Hahahaha, kinda,” she answers. “Ñame is like a potato without flavor.”

I choke, trying not to spit out my drink at that description. After I swallow, I laugh. A deep laugh that registers between a cough and a cry. I don’t remember the last time something made me laugh like this.

“It’s the truth. Just another Chad, Brad, or Kyle that my mother tried to pair me with so I don’t lose on my fertile years,” Livie explains, adding air quotes to the last two words. “Sorry, natural over-sharer. Your turn.”

I shake my head, still laughing a bit. “Don’t be sorry at all. I’m sorry you were set up with someone like that; sounds to me like you need more personality.”

“Than a root vegetable? Yes, please. I rather pluck my eyelashes out one at a time than deal with that for hours. My mother, on the other hand, doesn’t get that. Still over-sharing here. I’ll shut up now.”

“Don’t,” I chuckle. “I could listen to you talk all night.” I wait a few seconds in silence before looking her in the eyes, deciding to go for it. “I don’t go out much because my life came to a standstill three years ago. It’s only recently that I’ve been able to go anywhere without help. And let’s just say… my reputation is a disaster and trying to fix it is not as easy as it seems. Everything I do gets picked apart by the media, so now I don’t do anything at all.” I usually don’t have to talk about my career with women because they hunt me down for who I am. Alex Haddock, the ex-quarterback legend, not Alex the man.

“What are you, like, famous or something?” she asks, turning her face to the waitress as she brings us our food, dropping our plates in front of us and making the silence stretch longer. I hate this question almost as much as I hate getting recognized on the streets. There’s never a good way to explain who I am, and even years after setting foot on that stadium for the last time, it doesn’t get any better.

“Or something,” I mutter.

“Mysterious. Well, enjoy your food.” Livie grabs her cheeseburger and takes a big bite. She closes her eyes and moans again. She clearly enjoys food, and I like that. I really like that. Girls tend to be nervous while eating in front of a man. They’re worried about looking a certain way or not ordering what they truly want in fear of what men might think. I, for one, don’t give a shit. I’d much rather be on a date with someone who is trying to have a good time and be themselves than someone who is trying to impress me.

“You too,” I reply, trying not to think about how I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed an easy conversation with a girl while sharing a good dinner.

4

HAPPILY SATED

SANTA BABY, EARTHA KITT

Livie

We finishour dinner mostly in silence. We talk about a few more trivial things, staying away from the heavier topics our conversation started with. I, a pathological word blurt queen, and Alex, trying to appease my interrogation. I do enjoy talking to him and sharing this dinner, which is new. I was starting to lose hope in the whole dating scene—not that this is a date, but if it was, it would be a ten out of ten.

I do like that this is not a date, though, because of the way he smells—like a cozy winter night stuck in a cabin somewhere, baking cinnamon cookies—and the way he looks. If this was a date, I wouldn’t be wondering what would happen if I drag him out of here to a quiet alley and let him have his way with me. But because this is not one, I do contemplate it. His hands are broad and strong, and when he touched my lower back all my senses came to life.I’ve never met someone so charged with masculine energy, nor has my body ever answered to it like this.

The chances of seeing Alex again are slim since I don’t live in this area. I’m about an hour away from home, and he only knows my name. I’ve seen the way his eyes have roamed all over my body a few times tonight, so I know he’s interested. I can sense it. So…maybe I should just go for it and see where it leads.

We get up from the table, leaving a pile of plates and trash on top of a tray, ready for them to pick up since we couldn’t find a trashcan to do it ourselves. As we leave, he opens the door for me, and we’re out into the dark chilly night. I have lived in Florida my whole life, so when it’s fifty degrees, it’s freezing. I didn’t grab a jacket because it doesn’t fit the costume and I’ve regretted it all night. Not now, though. Because if I did indeed have a jacket, I wouldn’t be able to feel Alex’s hand, warm and heavy, on my lower back. I wouldn’t be able to feel his warmth as he gets close to me, and I like it. A lot.

We walk down the street, making a left on the empty and dark road where we parked. Very smart of me to pick a street with little to no traffic. Perfect spot for getting mugged, but also—now that I think about it—it might be the perfect spot for a quick sexual escapade if I can gather the courage to propose it. Other than the hand on my lower back, there hasn’t been any contact between us. Other than his roaming eyes, there hasn’t been any indication that he’s thinking about the same things. But I’ve been going crazy for the past hour and I need something.

I stand by my car, turning to face him. Alex keeps his distance, forever the gentleman, when all I want is for him to take a step forward, slam me against the car, and kiss me senseless.

“I guess this is good night,” he murmurs, his eyes fixating on mine like he’s looking for something.

“Do you know what I haven’t had in a while?” I ask him, twirling a piece of my hair around my finger.

“What’s that?” he asks, taking a step closer and showing that he can read the damn signals. A hot, easy to talk to, gentleman who’s smart too. If this man is single because he doesn’t know how to fuck, I’m going to be so pissed.

“A good night kiss,” I whisper into the air, biting my lip and not dropping my gaze for one second.

“Oh yeah?” He presses closer, placing a hand on the window of my car and caging me in. His other hand caress down my cheek until his fingers reach my neck and he holds me in place.

“I can rectify that.” His deep voice rumbles over my lips before he closes the small gap between us, brushing his lips to mine.

As our lips touch, it’s like a whisper, delicate and inviting. He gets comfortable exploring my mouth and slowly deepens the kiss. His hand tightens the grip he has on my neck, pulling me closer to him. I hum a quiet moan behind my lips and when I roll my hips against his pelvis, I notice how hard he is already. He lets out a guttural groan, deepening the kiss even more. Claiming my mouth as his own even if just for this moment.

He breaks the kiss and his breath is warm against my lips. The lingering taste of root beer on my tongue makes me crave one more taste. It’s making me crave more of him. We stand there quietly panting in each other’s arms.

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