Page 147 of The 21-Day Boyfriend
Our eyes lock once again, and it’s as if there were electricity in the air between us, suspended between words still unsaid, breaths not yet stolen.
“Er…” Mila interrupts our moment. “I just wanted to…” She nods at the plate of tempura prawns on the table, just in front of Eric.
I grab the plate and hand it to her. Mila leans into me. “I almost caught fire myself, there,” she says, making us both laugh. Eric heard, too.
“It’s best if we start eating,” Eric comments, picking up the plate of homemade breadsticks with olive oil and rosemary – made, of course, by Eric’s magic hands.
I feel as if I’ve been wrapped in batter and dipped in hot oil myself; just like the prawn my sister is eating.
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Mmm?”
“You seem… Distracted.”
I am, damn it. By you. You’re taking up my every thought, stripping me of all logic.
How the hell could I have thought of anything but you just twenty days ago?
“This salmon is divine, Eric,” his grandmother says, bringing our attention onto her.
“It’s all perfect,” Larry agrees.
Eric smiles.
“I’ve been eating his food every day for a while, but I have to admit that it gets me every time,” Mila says, her mouth full.
Eric studies her with a genuine affection; something that something that makes me like him a little more, as if it were needed.
“Mila started working at the restaurant,” Eric explains to his grandmother.
“Just as a waitress,” she says, a little embarrassed now.
“Just a waitress?” Evelyn asks. “Never minimise what you do, my dear girl, or who you are. You should be proud of yourself, of what you can do and how you achieve it.”
“I’m not even really that good,” Mila admits, her voice peppered with insecurity.
“The customers all love Mila,” Eric says, jumping to her defence. “She’s so cheerful and helpful, always has a good word to say about everyone. She never stops recommending dishes, most of all desserts.”
Mila blushes.
“And our colleagues love her,” he says, looking at her. “Myself included.”
And I love you.
Oh, I’m truly fucked now.
Eric’s grandmother keeps chatting to my sister, who’s now feeling much more comfortable. I turn to my fake boyfriend, who’s starting to evoke some very real emotions in me.
“Could you please try to be less perfect?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing, don’t worry.” I grab my glass and take a few sips of wine. “I’m drinking way too much and apparently I don’t intend to stop.” I place my now-empty glass on the table, and Eric’s hand moves back onto my thigh.
“I don’t care if you drink too much.”
“Why? Do you want to take advantage of me?”
