Page 88 of King of Pain
I chuckle. “I like it.”
We order a bottle of wine, agreeing to stay away from tequila after last night’s antics. When I ask Ant what’s good, he shrugs. “Stick to the basics. The spaghetti’s decent.”
I purse my lips in thought. “We’re getting the lasagna too. I need to compare.”
He huffs a laugh. “Of course you do.”
When our waiter arrives, we order two bowls of spaghetti, some meatballs, and a lasagna for the table. He leaves to put in our order and returns quickly with bread and salad. We eat in comfortable conversation, and when our first course plates are cleared, a quiet lull settles over us.
Ant picks up a crayon, glances at me with a tiny smirk, and scrawls upside-down on the table:Hi.
I smile, grabbing my own crayon:Hey.
His lips press together.
Then, with slightly shaky hands, he writes upside-down again:I like you.
A million butterflies take flight in my gut and flutter their way up to my chest. I move to the other side of the table, leaning close so I can write properly. As I do, I feel Ant’s hand slide onto the back of my thigh, just resting there.
Then he slides his hand up further.
The crayon slips in my grip sending a streak of red across the paper.
While Ant snickers, I try again, writing:Catch me.
He looks up at me, confusion written on his face.
I continue, writing directly underneath.
When I straighten, Ant’s eyes are locked on my words, his smile so blinding it could power the entire state of California:I’m falling, Beautiful.
He lifts his gaze from the paper on the table, and our eyes meet. No words pass between us. None are needed. Our hearts are already speaking a language all their own.
I reluctantly go back to my seat, and the food arrives, breaking the moment. I dig into the lasagna first. One bite in, I push the plate away dramatically.
“Nope. Get it away from me.”
Antloses it. His laughter is big and bright, his entire face glowing.
I shake my head, groaning. “Seriously, I don’t think I can eat anyone else’s lasagna ever again.”
He just smiles bigger, and then—
“Just eat your food, sexy. I want to go to the pier.”
I black out. I die. I ascend.
I manage to take a bite of a meatball, but my brain is stuck on a loop.
He called me sexy.
I am never recovering from this entire trip.
I peer over at Ant as I pull the car out of the motel parking lot and get us on the road back home.
I can't stop looking at his lips. Ever since his big reveal—I can't stop watching them move.
Last night after dinner, we went to the end of the pier and just watched the water for a while. Well, he watched the water. I watched him. He seemed so at peace, so happy, and it tookeverything in me not to grab his face and beg him to give me the smallest taste.
