Page 7 of Spoiling Lillian
I look down and shrug.
“Lillian… Look at me.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I lift my gaze.
“Talk to me.”
“It’s no big deal.” I shake off the weird mood I created and force a smile.
“It is a big deal. It matters to me. Tell me what’s going through your sweet head.”
I sigh. “I just figure you usually go out with older, more sophisticated women who don’t giggle. I’ll try to control myself.”
He leans in closer, reaches across the table, and holds his other hand open.
I slowly set my second hand in his, liking the way he squeezes both of my palms.
“I’ve known you for a month. At any point, have I ever insinuated I didn’t want you to laugh?”
“No,” I murmur.
“Your giggle is one of my favorite parts about you. I love that you’re carefree even after twenty-one years under an oppressive roof. You make me feel alive. You’re refreshing. Do not change one thing about yourself, and promise me you’ll never again behave in a way you think you’re supposed to in order to please someone other than yourself.”
I lick my lips.
“Be yourself at all times. If things don’t work out between us, you want to be able to look back and know you were authentic. If you spend this dinner pretending to be someone you’re not, how long will you be able to keep that up? A lifetime?”
I slowly smile, feeling mischievous. “So, you’re saying there’s a chance I might get both a kiss and a second date?” I’ve never been so bold before, but it’s easy with Bryson. He pulls it out of me.
“Affirmative on both counts, but only if you promise to keep laughing.”
I tip my head to the side. “What if you stop being funny?”
He chuckles. “Sweet girl, I’m not the one who’s funny. You are.”
“Are you saying I’m laughing at my own jokes?”
His eyes dance again. “I think the reason you giggle is because you’re making up for twenty-one years of seriousness. I think it’s because you spend a lot of time at Camden’s house, where giggling is the norm. I suspect you’ve learned it’s okay to relax and enjoy yourself. There’s a noticeable difference in you from when I met you until today. I like it. Don’t change.”
“Okay.” I try not to fidget, but it’s hard. He’s so intense.
A shadow looms over us, and Bryson turns toward the waitress. Without flinching or releasing my hands, he orders for both of us. He gets me the fillet and a side salad, glancing at me to ask how I like my steak, what dressing I prefer, and if I want a potato.
I think I’m in love by the time the waitress walks away.
He returns his full attention to me. “We didn’t discuss wine. To be honest, I’d rather have a clear head while I’m out with you, but I still should have asked.”
I wrinkle my nose. “The only time I tried alcohol was at a party my senior year in high school. My parents would freak if they ever found out I’d been at that party. The drink was gross. I never tried anything else.”
“What was it?”
I shrug. “It was clear. Vodka or gin or something.”
He laughs. “Those are very different drinks, sweet girl.”
I lift both shoulders. “Whatever.” I love how he calls me sweet girl. He’s never done that before tonight. It’s endearing. It’s also not helping me feel any less Little. If he wants me to stay away from age play, he’s failing with that nickname.
“Someday, I’ll introduce you to a delicious white wine, but not tonight.”
