Page 26 of The Dallas Dilemma

Dallas

JoeyB@JoeVSVolcano

“Now that was when people knew how to be in love. They knew it! Time, distance; nothing could separate them because they knew. It was right. It was real. It was…”

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DFW@BodaciousBuckaroo211

“...a movie.That’s your problem. You don’t want to be in love, you want to be in love in a movie.”Sleepless in Seattle.Easy. You’re going to have to try harder than that, Joe.

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JoeyB@JoeVSVolcano

Try harder to what? Stump you? You know, not everything I post is about you, jerkface.

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DFW@BodaciousBuckaroo211

Now, you’re just lying to yourself.

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I takemy time showering and getting ready to go over to Josette’s for dinner. It may not seem like a big deal to most, but I know what a significant step it was for her to ask. For someone who’s constantly worrying over bothering others or being rejected, her invitation was abig fucking deal.

Not that I would’ve rejected her offer. Not by a longshot. But she didn’t know that when she asked. She has no idea. No idea how her smile makes my pulse pound. No idea how my heart leapt into my throat when I took her hand on the beach, and she let me hold it. No idea how her laughter makes me feel lightheaded and her quiet contemplation centers me. How badly I want to feel her lips against mine or how afraid I am of making a move because it might scare her away.

I like this girl. And I meanreallylike her. And she hasno idea.

But knowing she pushed past all that anxiety to invite me to dinner becauseshewants to spend more time with me? I feel like a million bucks right now. I honestly haven’t felt this attracted to anyone since I first met…no. Not thinking of her right now.

Grabbing the bottle of wine and the four-pack of Rizzle spiked seltzers I ran out and bought after Josette invited me over––I needed to bring something, and I’m not sure which she would prefer––I check my reflection in the mirror near the front door. I look about as good as it’s going to get, and I flash myself a smile before pulling the door open and stepping out into the hall.

I know a casual dinner of grilled cheese and soup isn’t exactly romantic, butfuck, it feels extremely romantic to me. I’m actually nervous when I knock on Josette’s door.

Several long moments pass, and I imagine her on the other side, pacing as she tries to work up the courage to open it. Working through the anxiety just like she did when she invited me over in the first place. She’s stronger than she realizes, and I decide right here and now I’m going to do everything I can to help her recognize that strength in herself.

The door finally swings open, quickly like she did it in a rush so as not to chicken out, and I couldn’t tame my brilliant smile if I tried. She looks a bit nervous, but when her eyes drop to the offerings in my hands, she seems to relax. Her gaze rips back up to meet mine, and she arches a brow.

“Trying to get me drunk, Mr. Westfield?”

A short laugh barks out of me. “Wouldn’tdream of it, Miss Barnes. I just wasn’t sure which you would prefer, so I bought both.”

She waves me inside, then closes the door behind me before leading the way into the kitchen. I put the drinks in the fridge before turning to take a good look at her. God, she looks like an angel.

She’s wearing a long burgundy dress held up by thin straps that loop over her shoulders. Her hair is pinned up in a messy knot at the back of her head, a few stray tendrils framing her heart-shaped face. And she’s barefoot, her toenails painted the softest shade of pink.

My soft, warm thoughts shatter when I get a whiff of something that smells delicious. Something that is decidedlynotgrilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. When I lift my nose and inhale deeply, Josette chuckles nervously and pulls on some thick oven mitts.

“I hope you like Italian,” she says as she opens the oven and pulls out a casserole dish covered with bubbly white cheese before reaching back in for a tray of buttery garlic bread. “I know I said sandwiches, but I…uh…got a craving for my mom’s baked ziti.”

“I love Italian,” I say when she bites her lip nervously. “And I can’t wait to try it.”

I hope she really did just get a craving, and isn’t trying to impress me. I’d eat aHungry Manfrozen dinner with her, and it would be one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Because of the company.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asks after setting the hot pans on crocheted pads.

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