Chapter Eleven
Untitled
Skye
"This pizza is delicious." I'm practically singing as I stuff my face with pepperoni and mushroom pizza.
I lick some sauce off my lips and look over at Kingston, who is staring at me with a bemused expression on his face.
His blue eyes are dazzling, and I try not to shiver at the glance that he's giving me.
I feel really comfortable in his company and I'm putting it down to the three glasses of wine that I've already had and the fact that he was super nice to leave the restaurant with me.
"It is pretty good pizza. I'm glad you're enjoying it." He nods as he reaches for another slice. "Do you want to still order those breadsticks that you were talking about?"
"Is that an actual question?" I ask him, groaning.
"Yeah, it is. You said you wanted breadsticks as well as pizza."
"I didn't realize this pizza was going to be so huge.
" I rub my stomach. "I mean, I'm hungry, but I don't know that I can eat breadsticks as well, even though they look absolutely delicious.
That marinara dipping sauce?" I nod over to another table.
"Well, I can smell it from here. It feels like I'm in Italy. "
"Oh, you've been to Italy?" he asks.
"No," I say reluctantly, taking another bite of my pizza. "But not because I don't want to. It's definitely on my list of places to go."
"Oh? Anywhere in particular?"
"Well, I want to go to Rome, Sicily, Milan, Florence, Tuscany, and…" I pause. "Well, almost everywhere in Italy, and then France and Greece and Spain and Portugal. Oh, and the UK, of course, and then Denmark, Sweden, Norway."
"Oh, so you want to go all over Europe." He looks impressed as he grabs another slice of pizza. "You're a Europhile?"
"I’m just a travelphile. I want to go all over Europe, and then I want to go to Africa, North Africa, and mainland Africa.
I heard that the safari in Kenya and Uganda is amazing.
And then I want to go gorilla trekking and maybe down to South Africa to see penguins.
Even though I do want to go to Antarctica as well to see penguins, but that's so expensive, and I don't know that…
" I pause and sigh apologetically. "Sorry, I'm just rambling now. "
"Not at all." He looks at me keenly. "So you are a travel bug, huh?"
"I mean, I want to be." I sigh a long, deep sigh. "It's always been my dream to travel the world, but I haven’t really been anywhere yet." I wrinkle my nose. "It's on my list, but…"
"Your list?" he asks, an eyebrow arched. “Sorry, I know you mentioned it before, but I didn’t process what you were saying before.”
"Yeah, my dream goal list. I want to"—I hold up my fingers—"one, travel all around the world.
Maybe take a year off and just see everywhere I can see.
And then I would love to meet the man of my dreams, fall in love, and have a fairy-tale romance.
And three, write a book about my travels and my love and have it become a bestseller and then a movie and…
" I giggle again. "Well, you know. They say that you should dream big. "
"Yeah." He nods. "So, when are you going on this big adventure?"
I grab my wine and take another sip. "I don’t know. That's why I've been working so much. I'm trying to save money."
"Oh," he says. "And that's why you work for me, then you work on the weekend, and what else?”
“I had a weekend job that I would start on Fridays,” I finally admit to him. “So, no, I wasn’t going on a hot date.”
“Oh, I see. Well, good for you.”
"You know I lost that job." I scowl at him.
"Yes, I do. But at least you still work for me."
"I'm going to get another job. I had this idea where I'm going to be a photographer."
"Oh? Of babies? Weddings?" he questions.
"No, a professional selfie taker. I mean, that's not the right name, but—"
"Sorry, what?" He appears dumbfounded by the statement. "A professional selfie taker? Maybe I’m not understanding what you mean by that.”
"You know when you go out and you see people taking selfies?"
"Yeah?"
"And you know how hard it is to get the right angles and the right light?"
"Not really." He shakes his head.
"Well, trust me, it's really hard, especially for a woman.
Women know you hold the camera up, and you look down.
That way, you look slimmer. But a lot of men, they don't get it.
And even friends who are haters don't get it.
But as a professional selfie taker, I know the right angles to hold the camera. "
"Okay, so you're going to take selfies with people?"
"No. Basically, people who are taking selfies, I will take the photo for them instead."
He looks confused, "So then it's not a selfie."
"Well, no, it's not a selfie because I'm not going to be in it, but I'm going to replace the selfie with my photography skills."
"Okay, cool. And what sort of camera are you using?"
"I'm not going to be using any camera. I'll be using their phones, but maybe I'll get one of those Polaroid cameras?
But then you can't really do much with them, and you can't really post those images online, which is primarily what a lot of people are taking selfies for, to post and show their friends and family.
Look at the life I'm living. I'm living my best life.
Be jealous." I bite down on my pizza again and lick my lips. "You know what I mean?"
"Not really. I don't take many selfies, and I certainly don't post them on social media to say, 'Look at me. I'm living my best life.'"
"That's because you don't want all your women knowing that you're with another woman," I say, smirking as I sip my wine again. I watch as he picks up the wine bottle and empties the last of the pinot noir into my glass.
"Do you want another?"
"I shouldn't," I say as I nod.
"Is that a yes or a no?"
"I shouldn't." I nod again.
"You shouldn't, but you're nodding."
"I'm saying I shouldn't, but get another bottle, goofy," I say with a grin, and I’m met with his deep laugh.
"You're different when you're drunk."
"I'm not drunk," I counter. "I am just tipsy."
"Well, you're different when you're tipsy."
"Don't think that means you're going to have your wicked way with me."
"I think we've already decided that neither one of us is going to have our wicked way with the other."
"I could totally have my wicked way with you if I wanted to," I say, leaning forward and reaching over. I press my finger against his lips and rub my thumb against his lower lip.
He stares at me, his blue eyes hardening. "What are you doing?"
"Just feeling your lips to see if they're as soft as they look."
"And are they?" he rasps.
"They feel soft, but I don't know if they would be soft to kiss." I lick my lips and swallow. My throat suddenly dry.
"And is that something you want to find out?" His voice is soft, low, and breathy.
"Maybe, maybe not. Maybe I'll find someone else to kiss tonight." I look around the restaurant. "There are a lot of cuties here."
"There are," he says, though he doesn't look around.
"Are you hoping to kiss a hot woman tonight?"
He shakes his head.
"There are plenty of good-looking women here," I say, my eyes now focused on the bar. There's a group of three women that keep looking at Kingston, and they're kind of getting on my nerves.
"I'm sure there are," he says. Still, he doesn't look around.
"You're not even looking."
"I don't need to look," he says. "I'm here with you, and we're enjoying pizza and wine, and that's all that matters.
"Really? If I told you there was a hot brunette staring at you, looking like she wanted to eat you, you wouldn't want to know what she looked like?"
"Nope," he says, grinning. "Why? Are you telling me you want me to look? Are you telling me you want me to—"
"I'm not telling you anything," I say. "I'm just saying…" I grin. "You're kind of cute when you're not being all bossy and annoying."
"Bossy and annoying, huh?" He smirks. "When am I bossy and annoying?"
"When we're in the office and you're telling me what to do."
"Oh, you mean when I am acting like your boss?"
"Yeah. You're bossy when you act like my boss, and you can be grumpy. Shit, I didn't know men could be as grumpy as you."
"I don't think I'm grumpy. I just think—"
"You're grumpy. Trust me." I laugh. "You know, this is really nice," I say, sitting back, suddenly feeling nostalgic.
"What's really nice?"
"Just being here, eating pizza, drinking wine, hanging out. The evening started out kind of shitty with Camden, and if I'm honest, it didn't improve when I saw you."
“Thank you." He gives me a hurt look.
"I mean, come on now. After the conversation we had yesterday?"
"I get it. You were like, 'Oh no. There's my jerk face of a boss.'"
"Exactly." I laugh. "But you were kind of cool telling off Camden and leaving Angelica in the restaurant." I give him a small smile. "And this place is cool, and it's just nice chatting and… you know."
"And not trying to seduce each other," he says with a wink.
"And not trying to seduce each other," I agree with a smile. "You going to get that additional bottle of wine or what?"
"I've already nodded at the waiter and he's bringing one," he says with a smirk. "You just didn't notice."
"Oh, well, thank you."
"You're welcome. So you want to travel the world?"
"Yeah, I do. What about you? What are your dreams and goals?"
"My dreams and goals? Well, I want to have the most successful law firm in The City."
"You guys are practically there already,” I say.
"We are." He nods. "We're not number one yet, but if things keep going as they are, we will be."
"Is that really your only dream now?" I push. "To be successful at work?"
He’s quiet for a couple of seconds. "I mean, when I was younger, I used to want to be in a rock band."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. I mean, this was when I was like fourteen years old, and I thought I had an inkling of talent."
"You're telling me you're not talented?"
"I'm telling you that I don't think I would've been the frontman for a successful rock band."