Page 102 of The Cabin

He watches me sip the wine like a hawk. Eyes narrow in on every movement my lips make. I’m temporarily distracted until the taste registers.

“Oh my god! It’s exactly right.” I think I’m about to cry.Jesus Christ, Sol. Get it together.

“Excellent.” Our glasses are filled and I desperately try to control my emotions. I can feel Grayson’s attention on me.

“Have we made decisions on our meals?” Charles sets the wine bottle down on a nearby end table.

I clear my throat. “Yes. I’ll go with option one, thank you so much.”

“Wonderful.”

He switches his attention to Grayson and he looks like a fucking Hollywood actor as he says, “Same.”

As soon as Charles leaves, Grayson turns towards me and pulls my chair closer to him so I’m in between his legs.

“Talk to me, baby. What’s wrong?” THAT. That is what’s wrong! What’s wrong is he does these outrageously considerate things for me but wants to keep things casual! THIS IS NOT CASUAL. I’m sorry. It just isn’t! He had my favorite wine imported! I know for a goddamn fact that this random, incredibly lovely restaurant that is only open two nights a week did not have this wine in their selection! I’m willing to bet one million dollars on it.

How am I supposed to answer him? There aren’t words. There are, but they’re dangerous and we have an entire four courses ahead of us. “This is just so nice, Grayson. Thank you for bringing me here.”

He puts our foreheads together (kill me). “No. Thank you for agreeing to come with me.”

“To be fair, I was lassoed in. I had no idea I was signing myself up to be wined and dined in the coolest, most marvelous restaurant I’ve ever been to in a T-shirt and leggings after just having sweat through a tattoo for two hours.”

“But you trusted me enough to do all of those things. And that means everything to me.”

I just. Please just assume that for the remainder of the evening I will be one millimeter away from my heart bursting, okay? I can’t keep trying to describe it. I’m doing a shit job at it anyway. I’m sinking. And I’m sinking fast. Free fall. Out of the airplane. No parachute.

“You agreed to get my tattoo, too. That was pretty ballsy.” Steer it back to playful, light territory. At this point, the situation is dire and I need to find land. Solid ground.

“I’m a pretty ballsy guy.” He kisses down my cheek to my jaw. Hi. Um. We’re kissing (he’s kissing on me) in public. In a public place. Like outside of the cabin. He’s calling me baby and kissing on me with other people around. Where anybody could see. Well, the windows are tinted, but still!

“Oh, good one, Casanova. You’re not starting up the obscene innuendos again. I think we’ve all had our fill.”

His mouth moves back towards my ear. “Have you had your fill, Sol? Have you been filled enough?” I’m going to hyperventilate. Teeth nip at my earlobe before it’s sucked into his mouth. “I can think of a couple more ways you can be filled, baby.”

The moan that comes out is an accident. I am trying so effing hard to tread water here and I am failing.

His lips are slinking down my neck when Charles comes back with our appetizers. I jump, positive Grayson will want me to move away from him, especially in front of an actual person.

I thought wrong. Grayson doesn’t even hesitate. Doesn’t pause for a single second when Charles comes in and sets the plates down. It’s only when he’s finished kissing his way down that he lifts his head up and smiles. His entire face is hazy, like he’s just as drunk off of me as I am off him. “Thank you, Charles. This looks delicious.”

He hasn’t even seen the food. He’s just eating me up with his eyes.

As soon as Charles makes his exit I tsk, “You need to behave yourself,” as I turn towards the plate in front of me. (I am not even kind of mad, I'm just trying to, you know, survive.)

He’s not having that. “I will spread you out on this fucking table right now if I have to.” HELP. “The only meal I need is the one between your legs.” He scoots back and sits up straight, adjusting himself. “I will behave, though. Because I want tonight to be special.”

Hello operator? Can you connect me to the FBI? I think I’ve finally found their guy…

The food turns out to be mouth wateringly good. Both Grayson and I demolish our plates. All four of them. We talk all through dinner. We joke and tease. He makes me so fucking happy.

And he does behave. If you call rubbing me from the outside of my leggings through every single course ‘behaving’. You would never know it looking at his face. He kept conversation, he asked me the perfect questions, he was on top of it every time Charles came in (his fingers remained firmly in place, however). Between the food, the wine, and him I think I’ve hit delusional.

“Ten out of ten, would recommend?”

I’d gotten lost in his touch. Again. “Uh. Yes. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”

“Are you ready?”

---