Page 24 of The Best Book Boyfriend
“Not too much. I have such a supportive audience, and I’ve been able to grow my business because of them. I try not to share too much really personal stuff any more, or sometimes a handful of people get a bit too invested.”
“Like stalkers?” He looks concerned.
“No, nothing that bad. More just that sometimes people think they know you more than they actually do, if that makes sense? They have a lot of opinions about how you should live your life.”
We talk about the highs and lows of social media a little more while he takes food out of the oven and plates up a starter for us both. I try to keep my face straight even though inside I’m absolutely fawning at how gorgeous he looks, so at ease in his kitchen. I’ve only ever spent time with him in the coffee shop, so I’m enjoying seeing him in a different light. Sat across from him at his dining table, I can see he has these tiny little flecks in one of his irises, a touch darker than the rest. I’m captivated, could spend hours mapping them.
Our first course is a little roasted pepper, aubergine and goat cheese tart and it is so good.
“Did you make this?” I ask once I’ve finished my first mouthful. I’m such a sloppy eater, so I make an effort to remember my manners.
“I did.”
“It’s delicious.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”
“You’re an excellent cook.”
“I lost my way with it for a while. Once I was on my own, I realised it would be a miserable life if I only ate toast for the rest of my days, so I challenged myself to make one new dish a week and it rekindled my love of food and cooking. The pub restaurant was all classic British food, so it’s been good to get out of my comfort zone. I’m just glad I’ve got someone to share it with tonight.” We smile across our wine glasses when we both lift them at the same time.
“I’ll be round every night if you always cook like this.” He laughs and shakes his head as he eats a little more. I really like making him laugh.
“Do you cook much?” he asks.
“I used to more than I do now. I’ve found it really hard to adapt to cooking for one, you know?”
“I know what you mean. I hate waste, and not everything works well as leftovers. A lot of times I’ve ended up eating two dinners by myself.”
“What’s the best thing you’ve made?”
“Well, I’m hoping it’s our next course.”
I’ve only eaten two things he’s made so far, and I can safely say our main courseisone of the best things I’ve ever eaten. Hearty lasagna, rich, perfectly seasoned, and neither of us speaks much because it’s so delicious we can’t stop eating.
“So do you have a suggestion for a first book?” he asks as he finishes his plate.
“I have a few ideas actually, let me get my journal.” I dab my mouth with my napkin and get up from the table. My bag is out in the hallway with my coat, and I use this opportunity to take a deep breath and double check myself in the large mirror hung along one wall. Hair looks OK, makeup is still in place, nothing in my teeth.I’m doing fine. I’m not messing this up.
When I get back to the table, Luke pulls my chair around so I’m sitting at the end rather than opposite him, and I open up my journal to flick through the pages.
“This is really cool,” he says, admiring the pages I’ve filled so far. “Talk me through it.”
“It’s just a place I like to keep a record of what I’ve been reading, ratings for each book, a little review, favourite quotes and stuff like that. Then every month I pick a favourite and I use this page...” I turn a few until I find it, “to keep a log of my favourites and all my five-star reads.”
I suddenly feel really embarrassed. My book journal goes everywhere with me and while he knows I’m a reader, he doesn’t know I’m this nerdy about it. And some things I’ve written in here are a tad spicy to be sharing on a first date that may not even be a date at all. I rifle through the pages a little more quickly to get us back on track. “And then this is where I’ve captured all of my book club ideas.”
“Wait, go back,” he tugs the journal towards him and flicks back a page or two. “What’s this?”
I want to disappear underneath the table. The page he’s pointing to is, as it’s clearly labelled at the top, my Best Book Boyfriends page. The page where I list my top tier romance heroes, why I love them, and -and this is the worst part- quotes of the hottest things they say in my books. I know much of it from memory, there is a lot of filth and right now I really don’t want Luke to be reading any of that. Partly because it makes me look like a love-struck teenager, partly in case I give him the impression that’s what I am looking for in a man. Not that I’m looking for a man, but I still don’t want him to know.
“OK, this is amazing. Explain.”
“Ugh.” I bury my face in my hands. “It says what it says.” I tug it back from him and go back to the book club page. “I feel like you’re reading my teenage diary.”
“Best Book Boyfriends, huh.” He leans away, his forearms resting on the table in front of him. “I’m curious to know how they make the cut?”
I take a deep breath and swallow my shame. “Various reasons. Sometimes it’s to do with their personality, sometimes it’s the things they do, or the things they say.”
