Page 8 of Dear Bad Boy Next Door
I turn to him. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He shrugs. “I know, but I wanted to.”
"Thank you," I push up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek, but Beck turns his head at the last moment, and our lips meet.
It's barely a peck, but I feel it all the way through my body, down to my toes. I know he feels something too from the look in his eyes when I pull back in surprise. The electronic bell chimes when another customer walks in, reminding both of us that we currently have an audience.
We say our goodbyes to Trevor and Bette and head outside. My stomach growls, reminding me that I forgot to eat lunch today because of all the running around I did for Margot’s party tomorrow. I’m glad I already drop off what was needed, so I don’t have to go to the party early to help set up. Princess Margot can worry about something for once in her privileged life.
“Are you hungry?” Beck asks.
I put my hand over my stomach and sheepishly smile up at him. “I missed lunch today.”
He looks up and down the block, and he points out a small bistro.
“I haven’t been there, but I’d be interested in trying it out if you are.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Beck nods and takes my hand in his like it's the most natural thing in the world. I really like how my hand fits in his like they are two puzzle pieces that have just clicked into place.
We take a seat at one of the patio tables. The sun is going down, and the twinkle lights they have strung up to set the mood for a more romantic dining experience are turned on. I’m not sure if this is what Beck had in mind, but he didn’t shy away from it when we sat down.
“I have to admit, this isn’t at all how I imagined ending my day,” Beck says after the waiter has taken our order.
“How did you imagine your day ending?”
“Probably with some pizza, beer, and some video games.”
“I’m not sure I would have pegged you for a gamer.”
Beck leans towards me. “I think it’s safe to say that neither one of us had a good idea of the other before today.”
“That’s fair.”
“Do you play a lot?”
He considers this for a moment. “I split most of my downtime between playing and developing my own game."
With a bit of prompting, he lays out the game for me. It has an elaborate back story and I don't follow everything, considering my limited online gaming knowledge, but I love watching him get excited talking about it.
“It sounds amazing. Are you close to finishing it?”
“I probably have a few more months before I can try and pitch it to some gaming companies.”
“That’s exciting.”
“Yeah, it is. I don’t usually talk about it with anyone, though."
"Well, I'm glad you shared it with me."
“Me too.”
Our food arrives, and we dig in. Beck asks about my family. I tell him about Margot’s engagement party tomorrow and explain the hoops my mother is making me jump through to make it perfect for her. He doesn’t say anything when I finish, and I worry that maybe I unloaded too much on a question that was meant to be just polite small talk.
“Is that the reason you sent the letter?” he asks.
I look up at him in surprise. “Not initially, but maybe a part of me deep down felt I was stuck in a rut, and doing something monumentally crazy would shake me free, so I could get moving again.”
