Chapter 14 #2
There was no way of phrasing the question I’d been burning to ask since I’d realised Rosie’s stance on men.
But I knew I couldn’t go on another date without some answers.
Spending time with her was like navigating a minefield.
You never knew when one wrong step was going to blow up in your face.
And I was about to jump feet first onto one I knew would shoot me several feet in the air.
‘Why do you dislike men so much?’
Her eyes snapped to mine. Surprised by the bluntness of my question.
‘I don’t dislike them.’ Her words said one thing: the stiffness in her shoulders and the steely glint in her eye, quite another.
‘Alright.’ I took a sip of my beer, hoping to gain some courage to not fucking regret opening my big mouth. ‘You might not hate them, but your opinion of them is scraping the bottom of the fucking barrel.’
Her eyes pinched slightly as she looked at me, searching for something in my expression. After a while, she shrugged. ‘I’ve yet to meet one that is more than their base instincts and doesn’t act like the thing between their legs grants them untold superiority.’
I raised my eyebrows.
Her tone gentled. ‘Present company excluded.’
‘Glad to know I rank higher on your scale.’
‘Just a little. Don’t let it go to your head.’ The twitch of her lips sent a surge of warmth through my chest. Every smile, every laugh, I wanted to treasure like gold dust.
‘My question is why?’
A shadow passed over her face. For a split second, an emotion that sent my stomach roiling darkened her eyes.
‘I don’t owe you that information.’ Her tone was firm, unyielding.
‘Can you see yourself trusting me one day?’ It wasn’t a leading question, and based on the way she tilted her head to consider it, she knew that.
A heavy sigh parted her red lips. ‘I do trust you.’
‘Maybe. But I’ve found that trust isn’t a blanket statement.
’ She looked up at me, confused, so I went on.
‘You trust an electrician to fix faulty wiring in your house, which is different from trusting a friend to be honest with you about an outfit. You trust the bank to keep your money safe over a cardboard box under your bed. Saying you trust someone could mean a million different things. You might trust me not to hurt you physically. That doesn’t mean you trust me not to do it emotionally. ’
Her throat bobbed, cheeks twitching in an effort to keep her features schooled.
‘This is a really shitty first date topic. Shouldn’t you start with what’s your favourite colour?’
‘Maybe if we were in primary school. And this first date is under a unique set of circumstances,’ I argued. ‘We’ve known each other for nearly a year and we’ve already kissed twice, so all my usual moves on a first date wouldn’t work.’
Intrigue shone in her eyes. ‘What’s one of your first date moves?’
I hesitated, my drink half way to my lips. ‘Depends.’
‘On?’ Her unpainted nails tapped on the rim of her glass.
‘Well,’ I started. ‘If I’m out with a guy, I usually let them take the lead. I never want to make someone uncomfortable, so if they’re not fond of PDA or if they’re not out yet, my moves are a lot more subtle. Less forward.’
She nodded in understanding. ‘And if you’re out with a woman?’
Deciding to show her instead of explaining, I took the drink from her hand, enjoying the soft lift of her brow as she waited for what I was about to do next.
Watching every tick of her facial muscles, careful not to push her too far out of her comfort zone, I laced my fingers around her wrist. Her pulse quickened.
I placed her palm flat on my thigh, resting my hand on top of hers, keeping it in place. She watched the movement.
‘Bit forward, don’t you think? This close to your crotch.’ Humour tugged at the corners of her lips. Jesus, this woman couldn’t undergo a romantic moment without sticking a pin in it.
Once again, I ignored her obvious attempts to dampen the electricity flickering between us. ‘Not done yet, sweetheart.’ With my free hand, I trailed it up her arm, a feather-light touch, all the way up her neck and toyed with the baby hairs at the base of her neck.
I couldn’t help but smile when I caught the soft hitch of her breath.
Her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, and goddammit, I regretted being this close to her. I was supposed to be teaching her how to date, not imagining those wet lips wrapped around my cock.
‘And then I’d gaze into your eyes for a few seconds,’ I murmured. Not needing to put on much of a show—the love-struck expression on my face, far from being fake.
The sound of a squealing microphone pierced through the room, effectively popping our bubble of intimacy. Rosie jolted back with a nervous laugh and my hand fell from her neck.
The last thing I wanted to do was sit and watch a comedy show with an erection. But here we were.
Rosie picked up her glass, her fingers tapping the side nervously.
Hating that I knew I was the cause of her nerves, I slid my arm around her and tugged her into my side.
Her butt slid on the leather seat, and her eyes widened for a beat before I turned my attention to the stage, attempting to listen to what the guy on stage was saying. The front row chuckled softly.
Her body was stiff against mine. I dipped my head down to speak into her ear, sensing her discomfort.
‘Don’t think too hard, sweetheart. Dating is supposed to be fun.’
A sharp glare shot up at me as she tilted her head back so our eyes connected. I’d take her scowls and daggers any day of the week. Anything other than seeing the uncharacteristic anxiety stir beneath her otherwise cool and collected surface.
‘We have different definitions of fun,’ she grumbled, taking a drink and settling against my side, fixing her gaze on the comedian.