Chapter 12 Just friends
Leon
Dex steps out of his building with five minutes to spare and takes my breath away.
He really is stunning and he read my mind about not wearing a suit.
A silk tight button-up indigo shirt covers his torso, with black chinos wrapped around his toned legs and a pair of black Oxford shoes to finish off the look.
He freezes slightly as he spots me, as if surprised to see me here, even though this was the agreed meeting point.
His feet drag him forward until he's standing in front of me, straightening to look me up and down.
I can feel fire spreading in my veins wherever his gaze touches on my body and, with the way his eyes linger on my chest, I feel a streak of pride knowing he feels the same about me as I do about him.
I rush to break the silence before it bleeds into awkwardness.
"Hi, handsome." I give him a small smirk. "Am I a lucky guy or what?"
He lifts his head to look at me while he puffs an incredulous breath, but I want to keep
any doubts out of his mind before they take root. I lift the bouquet of flowers between us, praising myself once again on my impeccable intuition when they closely match the shirt he decided to wear.
"For you." I say in a gravelly voice that came straight from my belly.
My voice sounds almost as deep as his, but not as smooth as his honey-laced usual tone.
His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn't reach for the flowers.
I wait patiently, urging him with my eyes to say something. I finally get my wish.
"I...uhm... thanks. I've never..." he trails off, showing a hint of vulnerability. I interrupt him since I never want him to look unsure when it comes to me.
"You'll get used to it. Before you know it, your standards will be higher than the Empire State Building.
" I give him a quick wink and he seems to relax a bit, but his eyes are still too wary for my liking.
"Shall we? We have a bit of time before we have to be at the restaurant, so we can slowly walk together.
" I'm hoping the walk will help him loosen up a bit so we can have a nice dinner.
I mentally run through my list of safe ice breakers again, to make sure the conversation doesn't stop flowing once we get there.
Dexter looks at the bouquet still extended in my arm, then back to me, then back to the flowers. "Should I..." he trails off again, as if not knowing what to say next. I quickly catch on to what he means.
"Oh, yeah. If you don't wanna carry them around with you, I'm happy to wait until you get them upstairs. The base is a wet sponge, so you don't have to stick them in water until tomorrow." That seems to appease him and his shoulders drop slightly.
"Ok, yeah. I'll just be five." He finally grabs the flowers, with the same care you would usually hold a newborn baby for the first time, grazing my fingers in the process. I feel my nerves light up like a power grid.
"Take your time, no rush." I tell him, trying to recover from the unusual way I react to his touch.
He disappears back into the building and I start counting back from sixty.
I will not let nerves get the best of me.
This is a solid plan and, by the end of the night, I'll know where we stand, one way or another.
If he's happy to be my friend, great. If our friendship also includes some kissing, even better.
I don't know what I'm doing here, but I'm taking it one step at a time and the next step is to get Dex comfortable around me, maybe even get him to show me his laugh again.
He's back before I spiral deep in thought, so I give him my most practiced smile and ask if he's ready.
All I get is a nod, but that's good enough for now.
We start walking side by side, arms brushing as we go, even though the pavement is wide enough to put some distance between us.
I don't want it though, I want him glued to my side the whole night, if possible.
If the restaurant has bench seating, I'm totally sliding down next to him when we sit down.
I casually tell him about my week and the fuck-up we've been dealing with.
Normally, I wouldn't name names with my line of work, but the damage is done and the fucker who caused all this shit has already had all his personal crap splashed over the tabloids.
Whatever damage control we've done hasn't been enough to squash the initial outrage it sent the fans through.
While a certain level of playerness is expected from hockey players, the fact that he was engaged really messed up with their moral system.
Fans are torn between looking at him solely as a player and judging him as a shitty human.
I fall strongly into the second category, although that's not something I can advertise in my current role.
I wouldn't be surprised if the GM trades him before the playoffs even start.
Although what team would take him in the fall of the scandal is the real question.
The Hunters are known for pushing family values and good, clean, hard-working guys, so I don't really see how they would keep him.
We reach the French bistro and the hostess leads us to our table.
I'm disappointed to find a slim rectangular wood and iron table with two chairs.
I could technically pull one of the chairs on the side, but that wouldn't leave much space for people to walk between tables.
Resigned, I pull up a chair for Dexter, but he fluidly and rapidly sits down across from me.
With a chuckle, I shake my head and sit down. Dexter looks at me with a frown.
"What?" He asks, voice laced in confusion.
"Nothing, you're just very fast, that's all." To his even more confused expression, I continue. "I was holding the chair for you, but you sat down before I could say anything." I explain.
"Oh," he says, while looking down at the menu.
"It's fine, told you I'll get you used to it." I grin and pick up my own menu. Dex is studying his like it's got quantum physics formulas on it. Having looked over the options on the webpage already, I envelope one of his hands with mine to get his attention.
"I thought we could keep it easy, restaurants like these thrive on making great food out of simple but high-quality ingredients.
I'm getting the steak, frites and fried egg combo, if you'd like to try?
" I end on a question, since I don't want to put him on the spot, in case he wanted something else.
His eyes drop to my hand holding his and I give it a squeeze before pushing back on my side of the table. I'll take any opportunity to touch him, as long as he'll let me.
He clears his throat as if coming back to Earth.
"Sounds good," he says, and pushes the menu down, filling our water glasses from the jug on the table and taking a quick sip of his.
I'm mesmerised by the way his throat works.
It's so different from a girl's throat, not dainty and while still slim, it has a more muscular frame and the obvious Adam's apple that moves with each swallow.
My intrusive thoughts tell me I want to bite it, but I quickly push the desire away.
Huh, never thought I would be attracted to throats, but here we are.
"So, how did you get into finance?" I start with the first question on my list. It's a safe one, since we talked about his job last time and his passion for it bled through the conversation. I can see a flash of something in his eyes, before he answers though. Embarrassment, maybe?
"Dunno, always been good at it." He seems to think about this for a moment before he follows with. "And it makes good money, which is important to me." He narrows his eyes at me and I suddenly feel like this is a test. Like he is silently waiting for me to judge him for what he said.
I nod. "Financial security is very important.
" His face relaxes for a second and I guess I passed the test, so I continue.
"My job as a PR assistant pays well enough, but this is still New York and it’s pretty expensive overall.
I was lucky enough to land in a rent-free situation and have built quite a good nest egg.
In the not-so-distant future, I would love to buy a big house upstate with a huge garden and have a big family one day. " I tell him honestly.
"Ah, with the wife and the soccer team?" He's probing again, but I knew some kind of question relating to my "straightness" was coming. Even if this could be construed as a friend date only, I've put the romantic moves on him now and I'm not regretting it one bit.
"My partner and I, yes, but I would like a few kids. Maybe even a dog." I give him a small smile and wait for his response.
His face lightly scrunches. "They smell."
I let out a full-blown laugh then, attracting several gazes to our table.
"A cat, then." I say with a wide smile.
"To be honest, I'm not big on animals. I'm not really a kid person, but would love doing something with fostering in future, you know?
Helping troubled kids and supporting them so they can have a good life, despite their rocky start.
" He explains this with palpable vulnerability, which immediately makes me soften.
It's not a brag or an attempt at seeming philanthropic. He really has a pure soul.
"That's a very noble pursuit." I tell him truthfully, not attempting to hide the small awe in my voice.