Page 77 of Wants and Needs
“You don’t have to say anything at all,” I assure him.
“Eventually I will have to saysomething,” he stresses, and I smile automatically when his gaze returns to me. “This is our first date, and I know the implication of that. It sets the tone for the relationship.”
“That’s too much pressure to put on any one interaction,” I counter. “We already know each other very well, Liam. This is just us hanging out and maybe finding out more about each other.”
As I talk, the nerves I had about this being our first date slowly disappear.
What I just said is true. We already know each other, we already like each other—a lot considering the change in our normal behavior.
This is my first date in so many years that counting would be depressing, and also my first date ever with a man.
And this is only the second time Liam has sought a romantic relationship.
So we’re both going out on a limb here.
“I’ll try to switch to that mindset,” Liam whispers, and it only occurs to me then that he might not be able to think of this as something else like switching on a light.
“If you can’t, then just know you can tell me anything, okay?” I say quietly, and flip my hand over to grip his tightly. “I’m not going to ever stop you from telling me how you feel.”
“Thank you.” He looks less uncertain when our gazes meet,and our silence is only broken when the waiter arrives and asks us what we’d like to drink.
Like last time, we order still water and then a lasagna to share.
Since I used that break to think of a way to get Liam out of his head, I have a question ready when the waiter steps away.
“What is one thing about you that you think others would find surprising?”
And yeah, I did edit the wording on that while I was thinking about it.
“That’s a good question,” Liam murmurs, but he also reaches across the booth to take my hand again, and I actually like this habit of his of wanting to touch some part of me. “I guess the insurance on my hearing applies here.”
“Wha-what?” I sputter out between chuckles. “That is really unusual.”
“Well,” he says, shrugging. “I have perfect pitch, but also, in theory, my livelihood depends on my hearing, because thankfully insurance companies don’t consider Ludwig van Beethoven to be a precedent.” That only has me laughing harder.
The way he smiles at me makes me think he was trying to be funny that time.
“Wait,” I say as a thought occurs to me. “Does that mean I could insure my sight?”
“I think so.” He nods while he reaches over to the glasses the waiter sets on our table.
“You said in theory,” I remember. “What does that mean?”
“Well, if ESoothe is successful, then I won’t be able to claimmy hearing is the reason I can do my job on a new policy. But also, I don’t need my hearing tohearmusic.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, my whisper betraying my fascination as I lean forward.
“It just means I can close my eyes and hear any song I remember the notes to. I don’t need to listen to hear it.”
“That’s incredible,” I whisper, but he just shrugs.
“It can be, but it’s not a helpful skill for real life.”
“I guess,” I murmur, and leave it at that even though I want to press the matter of how incredible he is. But he clearly isn’t enjoying talking about it as much as I am.
“What about you?” he asks, and repeats my first question when I just stare blankly at him. “What is one thing about you that you think others would find surprising?”
“Oh.” I don’t know why I’m surprised he asked. “I think if my friends knew I’d had dinner with the royal family twice a year from when I was born until I was seventeen and my mother retired, they’d find that strange.”
