Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
LEVI
I knew I was getting a little too passionate about Morticia and Gomez. Nobody wanted to hear about the obsession teenage me had for Gomez.
While the other kids my age had posters of their favorite superhero or showed their support to team vampire or werewolf during that phase that seemed to have overcome almost everyone, my bedroom walls were covered with posters of the Addams Family and Gomez.
My dads never really understood why I loved the movie with such dark tones when I was a fairly sunny kid back then, but they just didn’t get it.
My little heart had been captured by just how romantic the movie was, and since then, I’d dreamed of having a romance just like the heads of the Addams’. And maybe somewhere in my childish mind, I thought I’d be able to experience that love if I found someone older, more mature like Gomez was.
“You know, I’ve never seen anything from that franchise. So, I guess it’s just hard for me to understand,” Andy suddenly commented .
I stared, wide-mouthed at him. “How have you never watched The Addams Family ? It’s a classic! And there are like a dozen adaptations. The animated series, and live action TV shows and movies—though I think the 1991 movie is the best. It just gives off such cozy vibes.”
He looked at me skeptically.
“Are we talking about the same Addams Family? Because if you think they’re cozy , then we have vastly different meanings of that word,” he said with anincredulous expression.
I shrugged. “You won’t understand until you watch it for yourself—which you will be doing as soon as possible,” I stated with a pointed look toward him.
He chuckled. “Oh, I will, will I? And who’s going to make sure that I do?”
“Don’t forget I know where you live. I’ll tie you to the couch if that’s what it takes,” I said, only half joking. I took my favorite film very seriously.
“We’re talking kinks already? On the first date? Don’t you think that’s a little presumptuous?” Andy said with a wink.
I knew he was only teasing, but I couldn’t help but think that this was already the best date—no, non -date—that I’d been on in a while.
Maybe Andy was right, and the issue was the men I was dating because I’d never been as comfortable on a date as I was now.
The passion was definitely there in my previous dates, but there wasn’t much else besides that. No joking around or teasing banter. Hell, I couldn’t even get them interested in listening to how my day was.
I knew that wasn’t the fault of the generation I was dating, but my own poor choices in picking men. And I was only now realizing that because of Andy’s comment about kinks.
If this was a first date with anyone else, we would be chatting about kinks and what we enjoyed in bed. It was expected, since we both knew where the night would lead.
Then the swirling voice in my head telling me I was only good for my body reared its ugly head. It was hard not to think like that when all my previous dating experiences only supported that fact.
“Hey, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?” Andy asked, hand over mine again. I wondered if he was even aware of the action or if he was just a touchy person in general.
“It’s nothing,” I replied and tried to focus on the heat of his hand instead of the nasty thoughts that only brought me down.
Andy raised a brow at me, giving me a look that told me he could see my bullshit from a mile away. That wasn’t the only thing I noticed about him.
He didn’t sugarcoat things or shy away from things that were difficult. He faced them head-on, kinda like what he’d been challenging me to do with this whole ‘introspective dating thing’.
I blew out a shaky breath and tried to force myself to face the truth, because the way I’d been dating wasn’t how I wanted my foreseeable future to be, so something needed to change. And that change needed to start with my mindset, and maybe talking it through with Andy would be the mind opener I needed.
“It’s just the thing about kinks and first dates,” I said, feeling a little shy now that I was actually going to say the words out loud. “Let’s just say it wasn’t an unusual topic of conversation for my first dates.”
Andy raised a brow as he looked at me, but there was no judgment in his eyes. He looked at me the way he did when he was assessing something, trying to find out the core of the issue before he spoke.
“I think I see the issue now. The problem is you’re dating jerks. You’ve been nothing but a gentleman this entire time. You’re funny, down to earth, and you care. The only thing you’re doing wrong is picking guys who don’t deserve you,” he said after a minute, and there was no way to stop the nervous laugh that came out of me. He squeezed my hand—because yes, his hand was still hot over mine! “While I’m not saying talking about your preferences isn’t important, because it is, getting to know the person you’re on a date with is important too. And before you say anything, you are worth getting to know .”
His words had all the air leaving my lungs. My insecurities lay out there in the open, and Andy was casually slaying them until I was forced to face the truth of his words.
I didn’t know how to reply when it felt like, for the longest time, these men I’d dated treated me like I was a disposable fucktoy.
I wasn’t usually an insecure person—I had amazing people in my life who always showed how much they loved me for being me . But they knew me, and the men whose attention I tried winning had never even bothered to try .
So, here I sat, across from Andy, staring at him because I still hadn’t figured out the right reply to that. Did I thank him? Or tell him that, if my dating history was anything to go by, he was completely wrong.
I didn’t do either of those things and just continued to stare. Andy didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t the kind of person whofidgeted under someone’s gaze.
He sat up straight, confident, as he bathed under my attention like it was all part of the natural way of things.
Maybe it was for him, because holy hell, was he a handsome one. He had to be popular with the ladies, especially the ones who had a thing for the stern-looking men.
Even with the caring expression he was now shooting my way, his brow was still furrowed in such a crease that I was starting to wonder if it was there permanently.
And his eyes, unwavering as they practically stared right into my soul. He was intense in a way that made me crave more of his attention.
So I stared and stared. Andy looked back, patiently waiting for my reply…or perhaps he was using this silence to ensure his words sank in. But the words weren’t the only thing that was sinking in.
His hands .
His hands were still on mine; hot and burning, drilling in the fact he was still touching me with his magnificent, large hands.
Was it a good time to blurt out I found his hands sexy as fuck? And not just his hands, but those drool-worthy forearms of his.
They screamed power, enough power to hold me down with ease. I wanted to trace the path of those strong veins with my tongue?—
“Have we decided what we’re having tonight?” a voice chirped to my right.
I jumped at the sudden question. My hand jolting out from Andy’s.
He gave me a questioning look before telling the waitress we needed a few more minutes. Damn him for still being all cool and collected while I was feeling like twisted yarn inside.
The waitress topped off our water and then left again to give us some more time. I’d been so caught up chatting with Andy that I hadn’t even looked at the menu yet.
“We should probably decide what we’re having tonight,” I said and cleared my throat, hoping it would dislodge those inappropriate and very confusing thoughts I was having about Andy. He wasn’t old enough to be my type, and most importantly…
This wasn’t a date .
Andy opened his mouth, and I worried he’d say something about the moment earlier—and dear god, I hoped I hadn’t been giving him googly eyes, because explaining that there was this confusing attraction toward him was the last thing I needed.
Thankfully, he didn’t bring it up, and we started chatting about the food the restaurant had to offer. Andy was impressed by how fancy the meals they had were and went into detail about the difficulty of some of the dishes.
He lit up as he spoke, brow still furrowed but somehow more gentle now, as he named dishes I couldn’t even pronounce.
I quietly listened, occasionally nodding, though I had no clue what he was talking about, which didn’t bother me. I could probably listen to him talk all day. The mellow cadence of his words was soothing, capturing me in a hazy spell.
“Sorry, I probably sound like a food snob,” Andy said suddenly.
I shook my head. “You’re passionate about your cooking, which I think is cool since I can’t cook to save my life,” I joked.
Andy grinned. “Henry told me about the time you tried cooking porridge and almost burned right through the pan.”
I groaned. Dad had been sick and craving Pops’ comforting porridge, but Pops had been out of town for the weekend, so being the good son I was, I tried making it for him.
“I’m never doing anything nice for him again,” I muttered, which earned me a deep rumble of a chuckle from Andy.
At that moment, the waitress returned to take our orders. I didn’t miss the appreciative glances she shot at Andy. I couldn’t blame her .
Serious-faced Andy was hot, but laughing Andy? The way his dark eyes sparkled as if he was experiencing joy with every part of his body?
He might as well be sucker punching me with how fast my breath was leaving my body.
We quickly placed our orders, and the waitress gave one last lingering glance at Andy before leaving. I had to push down the desire to block her view.
“So, you must know how grateful we are to have you,” I said, bringing the conversation back to him so that I could have a little time to calm down.
Andy sobered as he took a deep gulp of his water. Neither of us had chosen to get any alcohol tonight—him probably because he was the one who drove, and me because I didn’t need the booze fucking with my judgement any more.
“Trust me, I’m the grateful one. You guys are giving me the freedom to really build something during my time here,” he said, fists clenched on the table, and jaw tightened.
I hesitated on whether I should cover his hand with mine, but chose to do it in the end. He’d comforted me in this same way, and I wanted to show him I could be there for him too.
“This really means a lot to you.”
He nodded and looked at my hand with a strange expression, but he didn’t break our connection.
“We didn’t have much growing up, and when you grow up dirt-poor, it’s hard not to feel helpless, like you’ll never be able to break that vicious cycle,” Andy said with a sigh that shook his entire body.
I squeezed his hand harder.
“And most kids in my neighborhood don’t—escape, I mean. They fall into the same trap as their parents: drugs, gambling, anything to give them that tiny bit of high to forget about their miserable lives, even for a moment. We’ll never make anything for ourselves, so why even try, you know?”
He flipped his hand under mine, unfurling his fist to thread our fingers together. And suddenly, we were holding hands, and I found it hard to breathe. But still, I didn’t pull back because Andy was now playing with my fingers, and the action seemed to comfort him, and he needed that right now.
So I stayed like that, frozen and barely getting enough air into my lungs, as I continued listening to his soft voice.
“I vowed that wouldn’t be me. I’d make something of myself, even if I didn’t have a fancy college degree or professional training. I’d put in the effort and work my way up. I’d prove to everyone who doubted me or told me I’d fail and may as well give up right then and there. I’d prove them wrong,” he finished, his eyes piercing me with determination.
My heart broke for him, for the fact there were people in his life putting him down like that. I was fortunate to have parents who believed in everything I did. No matter how many times I stumbled or fell, they encouraged me, telling me I didn’t need to rush to find my path.
I hated that not every kid had that. I especially hated that Andy didn’t have that kind of support.
“You will. You are ,” I insisted, hoping I didn’t sound like I was saying the words with no weight to them.
I meant them .
I might not understand the background he came from, but there was one thing I was absolutely certain about: Andy knew his way around the kitchen.
The B&B had never gotten this many compliments about our food before. Our previous chef was good, but she was no Andy. She didn’t make everything that came out of the kitchen taste like literal magic.
My words seemed to have gotten to him. He squeezed my hand, gentle and appreciative. He smiled and, probably for the first time since I’d met him, his furrowed brow smoothed completely.
His brow might be smooth now, but the same couldn’t be said for the strange knot in my stomach.