24. Eden #2
“Ah, how about our five-flight sampler? Each flight is about six ounces. I can give you a mix of what’s on tap.”
“That sounds perfect,” I say to Connor.
He nods at the bartender. “We’ll each do a sampler.”
Although once the beers arrive, five flights just for me, I realize this may be our last stop. So much for Connor’s tour. I’m already a little tipsy from the wine, and these are going to put me over the top.
He seems to read my mind, brows raised by the impressive collection in front of us. “You want to order food to soak all this up?”
I’m not super hungry, but I’ll last longer if I eat. “Definitely. I’m going to guess there’s no quinoa and veggies on the menu?”
Snickering, he picks up the placard with the list of food items. “What do you know, they actually do have Cheetos.”
“No offense to the owner’s son, but not that.”
He smirks. “Sliders and fries, then?”
“Sounds good.”
After he puts the order in, I glance down at the line of beers, and grab the palest one. “This looks like it’ll be the lightest.”
“Don’t feel like you need to finish them all.”
“I’m going to try to pace myself.” I take a sip, and it’s smooth. Easy to enjoy. I take a second sip to confirm. “Okay, I like it.”
“Cool.” He picks up one of the darker ones. “So how are you feeling about the season, now that you’re almost halfway through?”
As he drinks, I answer. “You know how it goes. You can’t expect to win every game. No losses and one draw is huge for this point. If we drop a couple games in the rest of the regular season, we still should have the best record in the conference.”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
I take another sip myself. “The Waves are looking good so far. Dad’s excited.”
“They are. Four and one is a solid start.” He huffs a breath. “Though I don’t think my brothers will be satisfied unless they go all the way this year.”
“I know the feeling.” Sip.
“Everything’s okay with SLP? Are you getting what you need? Not that we have to talk business, but just to make sure...”
I grin at him. “I’d rather have a real conversation.” Mirroring his words on Bree’s deck from that Fourth of July night.
I’m rewarded with a smile. “Me too. Always.”
I answer his original question honestly, about how the support from SLP is keeping me sane with all the assistance in organizing my life.
He nods. “I’m glad that it’s helping. And all joking aside, I agree—no apologizing for saying what’s on our minds, whatever it is.”
“Deal.”
It takes a moment, but then I realize—from what I know about Connor, that vow is not one easily earned. He’s been forthright about how much he holds back from people, in general.
Knowing he trusts me like that, it’s even easier to trust him in return.
My thoughts are interrupted by the arrival of our food. A good thing, because I’ve somehow finished that first flight, and the buzz running through my body says the drinks are catching up with me.
“Dig in,” Connor says, handing me a small plate.
After one slider, though, I’m full, so I reach for the second palest flight. An IPA, maybe?
He clocks my motion. “We totally forgot to ask for water. Do you still want some?”
With food in me, I’m back to feeling a pleasant haze, but nothing more. “No, I’ll stick with this.”
It turns out to be an unwise assessment, because once I finish the second flight ten minutes later, distracted as we chat away, my mind is a little blurry.
I set the glass down, now empty. “This one was kind of crispy.”
“Crisp?” Connor says, a look of amusement on his face.
“Yeah, crisp.” Whoops.
He dips down and pecks my lips. “You’re cute.”
Cute I may be, but it’s time to take a break from this beer. “Can we get that water?”
He winks. “Sure.”
Half a glass of water later, and my mind has cleared a bit.
“Better?”
I smile at him. “Yeah, better.”
Our time at Cheetos may need to end soon, since my lightweight self isn’t going to finish the other half of my beers. Still, the combination of our free-flowing conversation, him letting down his guard, and the drinks already consumed has me tingling with anticipation over the night continuing.
What do I want tonight? The question returns from earlier. Now, I have a better sense of the answer. I unquestionably want to kiss him, yes. But more, too. I want to be able to touch him, explore what he likes, freely, finally. I never got to do that on the Fourth of July at Bree’s.
The looseness I feel around him right now? The trust he’s building is its foundation. Feeling safe with him, because of him, after these three hours, I want him to touch me again too.
Feel his hands on me tonight.
Even more, I want this stoic, restrained soul to know that he can let go of his careful control around me. Strip his armor away. If our night fifteen months ago was any indication, the result will be intense and hot—hopefully for him this time too.
“You all set with food?” the bartender asks. “Last call for the kitchen.”
Connor pushes our plates over to him. “Yes, thank you.”
He wraps his arm around the back of my chair, grinning. “First, the chocolate chip cookies, now this fine cuisine tonight. You’re going to think I eat like a teenage boy.”
My internal conversation still front of mind, my eyes roam down his body. “I don’t think of you as a boy. Don’t worry.”
“Hmmm…” His hands thread through the back of my hair, stroking my locks.
“I don’t think I want to go to another bar.”
His face sinks. “No problem, I can take you back to Tolliver.”
“No, not that. How do you feel about dancing?”