And he looks so very handsome. I know I go on and on about his appearance, but I’ll just say this.
He looks like he walked out of my dreams.
He walks toward me, kisses my hand, and says, “Vous êtes belle, mademoiselle.”
“You look pretty handsome yourself,” I reply. Then I notice his tie. It’s pink with little black Eiffel Towers sketched all over it. “We going a little overboard on this whole French theme?” I ask, pointing at his tie and laughing.
He chuckles and pulls up the tie. “This was my family’s way of giving me shit because I barely passed French last year. I got a 70.2% as my final grade. I told you. Fate.”
He leads me outside to the car that is almost as gorgeous as he is, walks me around to the passenger side, opens the door, and lets me in.
I slide into the leather seat, loving that Aiden has good manners.
Aiden opens his door and slides in next to me.
He reaches over, grabs my hand out of my lap, and holds it on the stick shift under his. “You ready?”
“Yeah. I’m looking forward to seeing if you can read the menu. You have to order. You know that, right?”
He grins at me as he puts the car in gear.
And I may be slightly obsessed with the way his hand feels on top of mine. The way he presses down on it slightly when he shifts. It’s like he’s in control.
And for some strange and surprising reason, I find this oddly comforting.
No, comforting isn’t the right word. I feel like he’s taking care of me. Kind of like the old-fashioned version of how a man is supposed to be. Usually, I have to drive a relationship. I have to know where it’s going.
With Aiden, I have this wonderful sense of powerlessness.
And it’s kinda thrilling.
“I love your dress,” he says. “And we match.”
“Your sister picked it out. I wasn’t planning on wearing it. I was sort of saving it.”
“What for?”
“You know, like a rainy day.”
“That dress is too pretty for a rainy day. You look like you should be in Paris having tea and eating macaroons.”
My eyes practically bug out of my head.
What the hell?
Can he read my freaking mind now, for real?
“I, uh, how did you know that?”
“Know what?”
“That I was saving it for Paris.”
He squints his eyes at me. “I didn’t. I just said that it looks like you should. So, does Dawson know we’re going on a date tonight?”
“I thought it was tutoring with food?”
Aiden pushes his hand down on mine as he shifts. I force myself to breathe normally. I am a normal person.
“No, it’s definitely a date. So, what did you and my sister talk about?”
“You know, clothes, shoes, boys.”
“Boys?”
“Well, yeah. We were talking about wooing. What you said made me think.”
“And what did you decide?”
“So far, Dawson is not wooing me. He’s also not thrilled about our field trip tonight.”
“You told him we were on a field trip?”
I laugh. “Naw, I told him it was tutoring with food at a remote location.”
“So, you lied?”
“Technically, that would not be a lie. And no, I didn’t. I told him it was a date. Even though you were a little unclear about it, your sister says it’s a date because you’re taking me to a nice restaurant. Plus, you’re wearing a suit. It’s totally a date.”
He downshifts, stops at a light, pulls my hand to his lips, and kisses it again. When the light turns green, he pushes it back on the stick shift, revs the motor, and slams through the gears.
And I must admit, it revs my motor too.
“You’re driving awfully fast.”
“I know. It’s fun, huh?”
Okay, so I have to gush.
OH. MY. GOSH.
Is he freaking sexy, or what?
Him, the suit, the tie, the car, the adrenaline rush, all of it.
He is—well, it’s no surprise. He is God of all Hotties, for sure.
We get to the restaurant, where he opens my car door, opens the restaurant door, and pulls out my chair for me. He is quite chivalrous.
But then he flips open the menu, written in French.
French is like his Achilles heel. His one weakness. And it’s adorable. Plus, it’s good to know he has at least one weakness.
“I like that you suck at French,” I tell him.
He slides his chair closer to mine and tries to read the entire menu.
And he doesn’t do half bad.
He figures out what he wants and attempts to order. And I maybe have to correct his pronunciation a few times, but he does well.
And it is the most adorable thing ever when he orders for both of us.
As Grandpa would say, His Momma done raised him right.
Damn, did she ever.
When the waiter takes our menus away, Aiden holds my hand and gazes into my eyes.
I’ve never felt so important or like what I had to say was so important. Like, you know how lots of times you’re talking to a guy and his eyes are looking everywhere but at you? Then he will glance back at your face, to verify that you are still talking; then he’ll look down and stare at your boobs—to make sure they are still intact, I think. And then his eyes sort of get that dazed look, and he continues to stare at your boobs, and you want to scream, Uh, hello, I’m speaking with my mouth, not my cleavage; you wanna just occasionally glance up?
Aiden’s not doing that. I have his full attention.
And he sure freaking has mine.
I also realize that his pull on me is not as shocking.
Maybe it’s like when you go stay up in the mountains and get acclimated to the altitude. I’m sort of being acclimated to his magnetism. I’m not quite as tongue-tied as I usually am around him, and I’m able to think more clearly.
He flashes his smile at me. “Why are you glad I suck at French?
“It makes you more human,” I stupidly say. Oh jeez, I’m an idiot. “I mean, uh, I wouldn’t have gotten to come here for dinner if you, um, didn’t, right?”
Clearly the air is still thin here at the top and is affecting my brain.
He reaches out and pushes my hair behind my ear, like he’s done it a million times. “I just noticed your earrings. Love the feathers and how they match your shoes.”
“Thanks. You look quite handsome tonight yourself. Whoever tailored your suit is quite talented. It fits you meticulously.”
“I wanted to look nice for you. So, I know you and Dawson are complicated, but what about Dallas? You were kissing him in the video.”
“Dallas and I are very not complicated. We’re friends. We smoke together sometimes and then we kiss. It’s no big deal.”
“You don’t think kissing is a big deal? I think our kisses are a pretty big deal.”
He runs his thumb across the palm of my hand, causing me to shiver.
The waiter interrupts our kissing conversation when he sets down our appetizers. A traditional French onion soup and sautéed escargot in a mushroom and red wine sauce.
“It’s too bad we don’t have a nice Bordeaux to go with this,” he says. “When we go to France, we’re drinking wine with every meal.”
“Have you ever been to France?”
“Once, to Paris. Do you like to travel? I love it.”
“Yeah, I do. I like to see the different cultures, experience the foods, see the sights, the countryside. Where all have you been?”
“Hmm. Let’s see. Basic stuff like Disney World. New York. Chicago. Then Venice. London. Hawaii. Berlin. Amelia Island. Cayman Islands, St. Kitts and St. Croix.”
“What did you think of St. Croix?”
“It’s like paradise. I’d love to go back, but my parents are on this kick where they won’t go back to the same place until they have been everywhere on their list. I’d love to go back just to relax, though.”
“Maybe I could arrange that.” I can’t help it. I’m smiling big.
“And how are you going to do that?”
“Good friends of ours have a place there. They don’t go very often, so I can use it whenever I want.”
“Really?”
I nod. “Okay, so, this is way out of left field . . .”
I stop myself.
Keatyn, what are you thinking? You’re not making plans with another boy only to be let down. You’ll go to St. Croix by yourself for Thanksgiving break. You’ll have fun relaxing. You’ll work on loving yourself.